


Avalanche

by Yin



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Post-Season/Series 15
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-01-09 19:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12282891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yin/pseuds/Yin
Summary: Following their fight with Temple and his group, the Reds and Blues return to Chorus.It isn't exactly easy helping a planet rebuild when the UNSC comes calling. Life is never simple for the Reds and Blues or the people of Chorus...even with the media, a mercenary, former Freelancers, and a handful of A.I. on their side!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shiranai Atsune](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Shiranai+Atsune).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic came about as a response to a prompt idea given to me by the awesome Shiranai Atsune! :D It is a post-Season 15 Canon Divergent story based around the concept of _“What if South and Wash got Eta and Iota, and Carolina got Epsilon?”_
> 
> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

A lone figure in orchid armor with olive green trim stood out on the landing zone, icy blue eyes narrowed as the returning transport ship made its reentry. The loud noise from its descent didn’t even seem to faze the woman with platinum blond hair, who stood defensively with helmet tucked deftly under her arm.

In a matter of minutes, the ship’s occupants disembarked in a colorful, tired line. This was the first time that some of them had stepped foot onto Chorus in several months. But, no effort was made on the part of the emerging party to look around at the constantly rebuilding world. All that could be discerned of the group in question was a bone-deep weariness along with the lingering scent of something burning that wafted from battered armor.

The woman in orchid armor made a beeline straight for another woman amongst the newcomers, this one in cyan armor. The blonde impatiently tapped her foot on the ground twice to grant the group _some_ small moment to collect themselves, though it was obviously an inner battle on her part to provide them even _that_ much.

_“What the fuck happened?”_ Passed harshly from her lips not a second later, moment of patience suddenly over.

The redhead in cyan regarded her wryly, green eyes looking oddly sunken and hollow, “A _“hello”_ might be nice, South.”

“Like you’d say anything different if you were in my position, Carolina.” South Dakota said, practically scoffing at the suggestion as the wind whipped strands of pale hair with orchid tips across her forehead. A few offending spiky pieces tickled her ears, but were easily ignored.

The former leader of the Freelancers said nothing in response, confirming to South that her assumption was correct. But, the Freelancer-turned-bodyguard was far too frustrated to really give a shit about that just then.

“First, I was woken up from the only decent sleep I’ve had in fucking weeks thanks to this shithole situation we’re stuck in with the UNSC by a screaming and more panicked than usual Eta,” South paused for a moment there to see if her golden A.I. partner wanted to make an appearance, but he had retreated from her, no doubt worried that she was still mad about his previous emotional outburst _(figured. The stupid little fucker)_ , “Only to _then_ find out that Iota and Wash had been mysteriously dropped off at the hospital with a goddamned bullet hole through the throat.”

South poked Carolina pointedly in the shoulder for added emphasis to her tirade, noticing but not commenting on the fact that the forceful shove actually caused the other armored soldier to take a shaky step back when normally she wouldn’t so much as flinch, “And _then_ there’s all this talk about the Reds and Blues getting caught up in some Sim Trooper bullshit on Earth. Why the hell were they back there?” She leaned away from the redhead for a moment to glance at the motley crew just behind her, “Some fucking retirement you ended up having.”

From within the colorful assemblage, there was a movement of orange armor as Dexter Grif shouted back, “You’re telling me!”

But, any other remarks from the peanut gallery were cut off as an armored figure in teal raced forward to join Carolina in crowding around South. _“How’s Wash doing?”_ Both Carolina and Lavernius Tucker quite loudly demanded at the same time. South’s annoyance only grew when she felt Eta defensively shrink back further into the recesses of her mind.

South took a step backwards, “Give me a damn minute!” She practically growled out before rolling her eyes in clear-cut exasperation, “He’s as stable as he’s going to get. Doctor Grey is constantly monitoring him, and Iota refuses to leave his side.”

There were huge sighs of relief from both Carolina and Tucker as some of the tension visibly melted from their limbs. The former Freelancer noted that it was the same for the other members of their group who had been listening in to the report. Not that South could fucking blame them, as it had been a rather dicey situation for a while.

…Getting shot through the _goddamned throat_ tended to have that effect.

“Take me to him!” Tucker demanded fervently, a desperate plea crawling its way through his vocal chords, “Fucking _please_!”

“Chill, you’ll get to visit your boyfriend soon.” South replied, letting out a tired sigh. Oh, how she hadn’t missed this old song and dance from when the two idiots had been separated previously from one another by Washington’s dumbass _“heroics.”_

“Wha—what?!?” The dark-skinned man spluttered at that frantically, “He isn’t my boyfriend. I mean—!”

Ice blue eyes rolled, cutting him off, “ _Sure_ , Tucker. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” As Tucker continued to stand like a gaping fish trying to form coherent words, South turned back to the redheaded woman, “So, what the fuck happened?” She repeated as slowly and succinctly as possible, “Kimball’s waist deep in even more political bullshit than usual because of this shit.”

At the mention of the newly-elected President of Chorus, Carolina’s already sagging shoulders slumped further as a guilt-stricken look suffused her pallid features, “I…I should go and apologize to her.”

“Um,” the two women and Tucker turned around at the purple medic’s sudden intrusion, Frank “Doc” DuFresne shifting awkwardly on the spot at all of the added attention thrown his way, “Carolina, I _really_ think you need to go to the hospital immediately.”

Tucker scowled at Doc, causing the brown-haired man to flinch though he continued ultimately to hold his ground. South raised an eyebrow, noting how Tucker’s expression softened once again when he turned back to regard Carolina as well, “As much as I hate to fucking admit it, Doc _has_ a point.”

Carolina looked as though she was struggling to stand upright, but she bit her lip and steadied her wobbling stance, “I’m _fine_.”

A tiny, green-armored figure appeared at her shoulder, “I believe that is nothing more than a false statement of bravado at this point, Carolina.”

Carolina shook her head, stumbling forward and barely catching herself. Tucker stopped just a few centimeters away from grabbing onto her shoulders himself, “Even…even _you_ , D?” The weakened woman questioned incredulously.

Delta inclined his head slightly, “Consider it an advisable cautionary measure, if you would.”

“You _do_ look like shit.” South noted rather sardonically, relenting just a bit in her _“extremely pissed”_ demeanor.

The other woman rolled her green eyes, “Gee, thanks.” She muttered back sarcastically, clearly aggravated by the input on her status.

South shrugged indifferently to Carolina’s obvious frustration at the situation, turning her attention over to Doc and Tucker, “I’ll get the other assholes to fill me in on the details, you two just get her to the hospital. Or else.”

Neither man had to be told twice.

*****

Meanwhile, the _“other assholes”_ were quietly making their way into the city proper for some much need rest following the quite chaotic and rather emotionally draining events on Earth.

The reporter garbed in white armor with a cobalt trim was walking in-between the red-armored form of Sarge and the “lightish red” figure of Franklin Delano Donut. Though they all smelled a bit _singed_ , for lack of a better term, given their previously close proximity to a volcano, the burnt smell coming off of the younger dirty blond was a bit more pronounced. It caused the reporter’s nose to scrunch up slightly at his shoulder-to-shoulder proximity.

She turned to him out of concern, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital to get checked over yourself, Donut?” The woman asked carefully, “After all, you _did_ get hit by some kind of beam from a time-traveling doomsday device.”

Donut cheerily waved his hand as if the matter was of little importance, “Oh, thanks for the concern, but I’m right as rain, Dylan!” He assured her, “It will take more than a tingle like that to whack me off!”

“I’d hardly describe what happened as a mere _“tingle.”_ ” The reporter, Dylan Andrews, tried again, decidedly ignoring the last bit of Donut’s remark entirely.

“The boy’s right. It will take more than a giant, glorified bug zapper to take him down!” Sarge puffed out his chest proudly, “Why, the sheer amount of times that Donut has been met with grievous bodily harm while working towards the continued glory of Red Team is impressive!”

“Ah, gee, thanks, Sarge!” Donut beamed over at his superior, “It’s always nice to be appreciated!”

“Yes, Captain Pastry is super helpful.” The blue-armored Caboose chimed in from close by, cradling Lopez’s waterlogged head in his arms, “He always has the fire extinguisher ready when I am helping machines.”

“¿Puedo ser detenido por alguien más que por él?” _{“Can I please be held by anyone but him?”}_

Donut sniffled appreciatively, “Aw, you guys are the best!”

“Though that did not help the water park.” Caboose added solemnly.

“Oh, that was only because I _always_ seem to get the fire extinguisher and the flamethrower mixed up!”

“... Tal vez tampoco él.” _{“…Maybe not him either.”}_

“I’m…not sure how to respond to any of that,” Dylan admitted after a few seconds of openly gaping at the group, “But I’ll take you on your word that you’re fine.”

“Yep!” Donut nodded his head emphatically, “I’m filled to the brim with fineness!”

There was a small cough behind them, and Dylan turned around to see a tan-armored figure with blue trim standing there. John Elizabeth Andersmith saluted all of them, much to Dylan’s amusement given her civilian status. But, the man seemed overly formal in general given his mannerisms, which was evident as he addressed her, “Jax Jonez appears to have made it safely to his destination back on Earth, ma’am.”

…And her young, cobalt-trimmed cameraman was no doubt currently trying to pitch a _very_ altered version of what had happened over the last several weeks to a Hollywood executive as they spoke. The brunette’s lips turned upwards slightly at the notion before she spoke: “Thank you for the information.”

Another salute, “Of course, ma’am!”

A young woman in tan armor with maroon trim and a young man in equally tan armor with aqua trim joined them as well. “Would you guys like to stop by your old apartment building to rest up before visiting the others at the hospital or talking to President Kimball?” Katie Jensen inquired politely, lisp heard quite plainly in her question.

“Yeah, everything’s just like how you left it!” Charles Palomo told them rather happily, “Including all the holes and lighting problems! You know, for _ambiance_!”

Donut’s eyes lit up at that last word, “Oh!”

Andersmith smiled apologetically, “It hasn’t made it on to our list of top rebuilding priorities yet, I’m afraid.”

Sarge nodded his head in understanding, “That’s fine. It will give us something to do while we’re here.” He turned to stare down at the brown-armored helmet still in Caboose’s arms, “Isn’t that right, Lopez?”

“¡Hazme un cuerpo nuevo primero, viejo loco!” _{“Make me a new body first, you crazy old man!”}_

“That’s a great idea!” Donut stated enthusiastically before sweeping his brown eyes over the three lieutenants-turned-police-officers in their midst, “Say, where did Bitters run off to?”

Palomo smirked, “Antoine just couldn’t wait to visit with his _boyfriend_ again!” He teased, although it seemed rather pointless considering the person being teased wasn’t even there.

“Charlie!” Jensen admonished her significant other, placing her hands on her hips, “You shouldn’t spread around gossip.”

The dark-skinned young man only grinned all the more cheekily, “Oh, come on, Katie! It’s only a matter of time before him and Matthews get together.”

Andersmith sighed and shook his dark head of hair, “It’s just a shame that Matthews couldn’t be here to welcome Captain Grif back personally.”

Donut reached over and patted the taller man on the shoulder consolingly, “Maybe that’s a good thing this time around.” He told him, “After all, Grif did seem rather overwhelmed at being reunited with both Kaikaina and Theta earlier.” He grinned, “There will be plenty of time for everyone to play catch up later!”

At the mention of the orange-armored soldier, Sarge frowned and glanced around them, “Where in tarnation is that orange dirt-bag anyways?” He asked, his gruff voice holding a tinge more concern than his words let on, “That crazy sister of his and Simmons aren’t here either.”

“The little purple one is missing too.” Caboose noted as well, as if he suddenly realized half their group was gone.

“Oh!” Jensen blinked, brown eyes lighting up in recollection, “Captains Grif and Simmons had wanted to show Kaikaina around Chorus some more since she hadn’t been here for very long.” She looked thoughtfully in the direction that she had last seen them, “I guess Theta went with them too.”

“Well, _that’s_ a pity.” South Dakota’s voice stated sarcastically behind the group, and they turned to see her standing there with arms crossed over her chest and helmet dangling from her fingertips rather carelessly, “I guess that means I’ll just have to get what happened out of you chumps instead.”

“Dangnabit!” Sarge’s shoulders slumped downwards as he muttered under his breath, “We should’ve done like Grif and Simmons and escaped when we had the chance.”

The smirk on South’s face only widened at the older man’s remark.

*****

“…And this was where the _second_ weapons cache was located, conveniently right near one of the vehicle hangars.” Richard “Dick” Simmons remarked, though the organic portions of his face took on a vibrant shade of red as they stood in the middle of what appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, a deserted hallway, “Though I suppose from the look of things, Chorus has certainly changed quite a bit since the last time we were here.”

Dexter Grif rolled his eyes at the rather obvious statement, “No shit, but what else did we expect when the entire planet is busy rebuilding?”

The maroon-armored cyborg deflated even more, “But you’re the one who suggested this in the first place, fat-ass!” He managed to splutter out.

“Yeah, but only because I wanted to get away from the landing zone real quick.” The tan-skinned man said as he gave Simmons his best shit-eating grin.

“That’s—!”

The yellow-armored form of Kaikaina Grif stepped past the bickering pair, brown eyes sweeping over the hallway in a rather unimpressed motion, “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Everything’s very up and coming. Blah, blah, blah…” She turned back towards the two arguing men and flashed them a grin, “But the little guy already showed me around this part of town when I first got here.”

There was a sudden flash of purple over Grif’s shoulder, and Theta appeared. The childlike A.I. Fragment bowed his head slightly as if in apology to Kai, “I...I just hope that I was a decent tour guide.” He mumbled timidly.

Kai’s grin only widened, “Come on, you were the fucking _best_!”

“R—really?” The hesitant smile in the A.I.’s voice at the assurance was as clear as could be.

Simmons smiled warmly at Theta, “It’s _definitely_ good to see you again, Theta.” He told him emphatically for what was probably the tenth time since their reunion back on Earth, “Was helping Santa with overseeing that tech placement here on Chorus fun?”

Theta nodded earnestly, “Fun, but not nearly as eventful as all of the stuff on the moon and on Earth, I bet!”

Grif and Simmons both glanced at each other rather awkwardly then. Yes, they had recently experienced some fun and eventful times, but there had also been a whole lot of pain and hurt full of things that shouldn’t have been said all around, and things that _still_ needed to be said. Neither man wanted to burden Kai or Theta with that stuff yet though, if ever. Hell, if they were given the choice, they would probably prefer to just bury it between themselves deep down and forget any of it had ever happened.

Simmons fidgeted awkwardly along with Grif as the shared gaze lingered. Still…

“Hanging out with Eta again was nice,” Theta continued enthusiastically, pulling the two men’s attention away from hidden words and feelings, “But South was her usual self.” His form flickered briefly, and his shoulders sagged, “I…I think having me in her armor’s storage unit upset her.”

Simmons and Grif both looked at one another again, this time with mutual concern and worry mirrored in their eyes.

“Maybe having me around just reminds her too much of N—North…” The A.I. mused quietly to himself, looking absolutely downtrodden at the reminder of his previous Freelancer partner.

Simmons opened his mouth desperately to speak up then, to reassure the young-minded Fragment, but no words came out. He nearly wanted to cry out in helpless frustration then. The maroon-armored soldier always seemed to fuck it up when he needed to speak out.

It was just like when he had frozen those two times before. Back when Grif had quit, and then when he had confided in Simmons about how he thought that he was the group’s _“hate glue.”_ The redhead had desperately wanted to say something, _anything_ both times in order to convince the orange-armored soldier otherwise. But, his voice had frozen around any words he might have said and nothing had come out.

He hated how absolutely fucking inept he was at really saying how he felt when it mattered.

Surprisingly, though, it wasn’t Grif who carried on the conversation this time without him like he had back at Temple’s underwater lair, back when they had then proceeded into extremely awkward _other_ feelings territory. Rather, it was Kai who beat him to the punch.

“Are you referring to that crazy hot angry chick who _isn’t_ Carolina?” She asked, clearly intrigued.

Theta turned to Grif’s sibling, “Er…I think so?” He stated, unsure of how Kai had described said person.

The young woman nodded her head, recollection clouding her tanned features, “That chick threatened me, and not in the fucking _fun_ way if you get my drift,” Kai said to an A.I. who clearly _didn’t_ get her drift, “To take good care of you before I was even allowed to bring you off-planet to see these two dorks again.”

_“Hey!”_ Both Simmons and Grif stated rather lamely in response to her last comment.

Theta looked at the younger Grif, absolutely stunned, “R—really?”

“Totally, little dude.” Kai tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully, “I bet she’s just one of those hottie types who uses anger to keep anyone from getting too close or some bullshit like that.”

Simmons blinked in astonishment, “That is a surprisingly accurate description of South, actually.” He confirmed to Theta, impressed by Kai’s psychological profile on the former Freelancer.

Meanwhile, Grif was still mouthing the word _“hottie”_ with a disbelieving look on his face. Simmons winced, wondering if Grif wasn’t going to decide to have some fucked up version of _“the talk”_ with Kai _yet again_ as a result.

“Thank you for telling me that, Kaikaina.” Theta told her politely, “Whether it’s true or not.”

“Kid, my word is golden!” Kai assured him, winking, “And you can totally call me Kai now too, you know.”

“O—okay!” Theta exclaimed, practically beaming now.

The young woman turned her attention back to the empty hallway their group was standing in, her eyes zeroing in on a row of storage closets, “Whoa, fucking _really_?” Kai remarked rather loudly as she practically skipped over to one of the doors and experimentally wrapped her knuckles on it, “With how it’s designed, I bet this whole planet is just a setup for people getting it on.”

Simmons felt heat rising to his face at Kai’s rather innocent _(for her, anyway)_ comment. He caught Grif looking his way out of the corner of his eye, a bit of redness visible on the paler patches of his skin, before both men quickly darted their heads away to look in opposite directions.

_Don’t think about heat and sweat, fingers and mouths touching everywhere…!_

“If you’re interested in architecture,” Theta was completely oblivious to the discomfort of his two partners just then, focused instead on keeping the conversation going with Kai, “Some of the newer buildings are really unique!”

Kai raised a black eyebrow in pure curiosity, “Really? Any good make out spots?”

Her voice, along with Theta’s, started to carry down the hall as they continued their discussion on building designs of all things, leaving Grif and Simmons to still stand together awkwardly.

Simmons coughed rather abruptly in a rather obvious attempt to diffuse the sudden tension between them, “So,” he tried focusing on keeping his voice down to a regular, conversational pitch, “I—it’s good having both Kai and Theta back, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Grif confirmed, smiling slightly as he watched the two in question meander down a turn in the corridor. There was another momentary silence as Grif seemed to debate something in his head. He glanced over at Simmons cautiously, “If it’s okay with you, could Theta maybe stay with me for a while? If he wants to, that is.”

That question caught Simmons completely off-guard and he had to do a double-take to make sure that he had heard it correctly. After all, he and Grif basically had what amounted to _“joint custody”_ of Theta, as Donut liked to dreamily put it. That had been the case ever since the two members of Red Team had unofficially adopted the Fragment years earlier following the tragic death of Freelancer Agent North Dakota at the hands of the Meta.

It was a system that had worked well for all of them, surprisingly enough. The grieving Theta only really wanted to be in someone’s storage compartment anymore. Delta had surmised that it was from the sadness and shock of having been connected while North was dying. Plus, both Grif and Simmons secretly liked looking out for kids in their own ways. Not to mention that the two were largely inseparable, besides.

But, the redhead figured that maybe Grif just wanted some quality bonding time with Theta one-on-one since Simmons had technically been the one to carry the A.I. last before Theta, in an attempt to become a bit more outgoing, had volunteered himself to help out on Chorus for a while. Simmons had never felt so proud and yet so terrified all at once back when Theta had stated his intent.

Simmons nodded his head slightly in agreement, which caused Grif to relax somewhat. For some reason, the chubby man seemed more deflated than usual, which caused Simmons to worry.

“Thanks, Simmons.” Grif closed his eyes, the bags under them became extremely pronounced at the motion, “I’m tired as shit with everything that’s fucking happened recently.” He told the cyborg, stretching his arms out over his head, “I really just want to go to sleep.”

Simmons rolled his eyes, “You’re always tired, Grif.” He shot back at him, though he couldn’t help but stifle a yawn himself just then, “But _this_ time? I kind of have to agree.”

After all, they _had_ been through a fucking lot. A real, proper rest would do them all a world of good.

But then, Simmons glanced over at Grif’s face again and frowned. There were distinctive, splotchy bruises covering his mismatched skin from his unfortunate nosedive back at the volcano lair.

Before his brain could put two and two together in order to scream at him to stop, since he was just about to make things even more awkward between the two of them, Simmons tentatively reached out with his still flesh-and-blood hand to touch a particularly large bruise covering Grif’s tanned cheek.

“We should have gone to the hospital too.” Simmons noted softly, eyes focused on the contusion.

Grif did not react to Simmons’ sudden touch in the way that the cyborg had expected. Instead of flinching away and looking at Simmons in absolute disgust, the tan-skinned man actually _leaned_ into the warmth of Simmons’ fingers pressing against his face as if he was starved for the contact. Simmons’ pulse quickened at that action, his whole body freezing as he stood there dumbly.

The entire event only lasted for a moment as both men pulled away almost instantaneously, as if suddenly remembering where they were and what they should be doing instead.

Grif cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at the ground in sudden fascination, “I’m _fine_ , Simmons. Really.”

Simmons reluctantly dropped his hand back to his side, a frown settling across his face. He opened his mouth, about to argue with Grif on that point, when Kai and Theta both appeared around the corner of the hallway again.

_“Hey, losers!”_ Kai cupped her hands over her mouth and yelled over at them down the corridor, “You two had better start making out in the next five minutes, or me and the little guy are leaving your sorry asses here!”

Grif and Simmons both turned red, Grif yelling out _“Goddamn it, Kai!”_ at the top of his lungs before chasing after the now laughing girl.

Simmons followed them not a second later, shaking his head but sporting a slight smile on his face all the same. If nothing else, revisiting Chorus seemed like it would prove to be rather eventful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic came about as a response to a prompt idea given to me by the awesome Shiranai Atsune! :D The prompt idea that this story stems from is _“What if South and Wash got Eta and Iota, and Carolina got Epsilon?”_ …Since I’m also still having all sorts of Season 15 feels, it ended up evolving into a Canon Divergent story set after the events of that season too. Also, it somehow managed to become a multi-chapter fic as opposed to just a one shot! XD My brain, it makes little sense at times! XD
> 
> Just to sort of catch up with some background plot for this fic and how it is Canon Divergent: South received Eta and Washington got Iota during the events of Project Freelancer, while Carolina received Epsilon. Carolina ended up having a mental collapse as a result of Epsilon trying to kill himself while connected to her, thus causing her to be out of commission when the Meta incident begins. York and North still defect from Freelancer along with Tex, and both South and Wash became Recovery Agents tasked with bringing them back. The three defectors meet up with the Reds and Blues, and ultimately run into South and Wash. They band together in order to try to stop the Meta, just as Carolina escapes from her “recovery period” along with Epsilon.
> 
> The group ends up defeating the Meta, though they lose Tex, Alpha, York, and North in the process. Carolina acquires Delta afterwards, and Grif and Simmons both “adopt” Theta. Afterwards, South and Wash decide to go along with Carolina and Epsilon’s mission of revenge against the Director with the Reds and Blues. Events play out rather similarly to canon from that point. They end up crashing onto Chorus and get embroiled in the civil war there, with Epsilon still sacrificing himself. While everyone else retires on the moon, South decides to become Kimball’s bodyguard instead and the events of Season 15 play out rather similarly as they did in canon with a few alterations here and there given how Iota and Delta are thrown into the mix. This fic pretty much takes place immediately afterwards.
> 
> Pairings will be Grimmons, Tuckington, Kai x South, past!Yorkalina, Kimbalina, Sarge x Grey, Jensen x Palomo, Bitthews, and Docnut. :D
> 
> …Oh boy, was _that_ a long explanation! XD I apologize if this isn’t exactly what you were hoping for, Shiranai Atsune, but I really, really hope that you will enjoy reading it none the less! :D


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

For a few dismally confusing moments following waking up out of a drug-induced stupor, Agent David Washington had no idea where he was. Blinking away the groggy heaviness still pounding against his eyelids, he was greeted by a sterile and austere environment the sight of which helpfully reminded him that he was still in a hospital room with nothing to do.

Perhaps rather thankfully for him and his continued reputation as something akin to a war hero on the recovering Chorus, Doctor Grey would not allow Washington to see the video that Palomo had shot with his helmet-cam of him singing the _Duck Tales_ theme song. She said that could wait until much, much later in his recovery. Truth be told, as things were now, he was kind of bored, yet glad to be so since it meant he was alive.

With that thought in mind, Washington caught movement off to his right side. He tilted his head towards that direction, expecting to see a nurse or another member of the hospital staff attempting to go about their business as quietly as possible so as to not wake him, only to be shocked at the sight of _Lavernius Tucker_ curled up in a chair. The blond’s breath momentarily caught in his throat, which was actually a rather painful action given his recent injury.

Trying to ignore the stinging tears in his gray eyes, Washington turned his head to the left…only to be met with the sight of Michael J. Caboose. The younger man in blue had dragged one of the waiting room benches into the room and was currently draped across it. His larger legs were dangling furtively in the air despite his awkward positioning.

Both of his Blue teammates were very much asleep. The lights appeared to be rather dim too, which caused Washington to wonder just how long the two men had been here with him, or even when they had arrived on Chorus in the first place.

Given the state of things when he had been severely injured, not to mention his doped out perspective back then, there were a great many questions now floating through his brain.

“I can help fill in some of those holes for you, Wash!” Iota cheerfully supplied as his cyan hologram flickered to life over the Freelancer’s shoulder.

Washington couldn’t help but give a slight start at his A.I. partner’s sudden appearance. Granted, a part of him had logically known that Iota was around since the little guy had so steadfastly refused to leave his side during recovery. No doubt in response to having been forcibly removed by Temple earlier and then having witnessed Washington’s subsequent injury when they had been reunited later on. But, he had been so caught off-guard by waking up to the sight of both Tucker and Caboose in his room that the blond had momentarily forgotten that little detail.

“Oh,” Iota rubbed the back of his helmet sheepishly in response, “Sorry if I startled you!”

“It’s fine, little guy.” Washington assured him, a thin smile forming on his lips, “I’m just glad that Donut wasn’t around to hear you.”

Somehow, after having spent quite a bit of time around the equally cheerful pink-armored private, Iota had inadvertently developed a bit of a penchant for innocent innuendo too. At least the Fragment’s phrasing usage still seemed rather tame in comparison.

Iota tilted his head in slight confusion to his remark and Washington sighed, deciding that it would be best to move the conversation along before he had to elaborate, “Never mind. You said that you’d explain for me…?”

The A.I. glowed slightly at the prompt, looking over at the two Blue Team members as he did so, “Right! All of the Reds and Blues arrived on Chorus approximately two days ago.” He informed Washington hastily, “They, along with South, have all stopped by to visit with you since.”

“Bet her visits have been pleasant.” Washington couldn’t stop himself from mumbling under his breath. He recalled how South’s visits to wounded comrades on _The Mother of Invention_ had usually resulted in several medics having to take a few minutes afterwards to calm their nerves.

So far, the _only_ doctor he had ever known to withstand the orchid-armored woman’s biting intensity was Doctor Grey. It had unnerved South a bit at first, but also gave her a begrudging sort-of respect for the noted genius. Truthfully, it had only ever resulted in more fear being directed Doctor Grey’s way from Washington and everyone else.

Iota flickered briefly as if in agreement to Washington’s comment, “Yes, well, she only ever really stays long enough for a brief status report and for Eta to say hello. I think she and Doctor Grey worked that out so as to avoid scaring the hospital staff.”

Washington nodded, closing his eyes briefly. All in all, that sounded like a good strategy.

“Tucker and Caboose have been here today ever since visiting hours started.” His partner finished, nodding to both of their teammates as he did so.

Opening his grey eyes, Washington looked bemusedly at Tucker and Caboose, “So I guess that means they did it?”

Iota nodded, “Yes, the matter of Temple and his group has been resolved,” he glanced away from the Freelancer who usually wore steel-and-yellow armor to focus on the floor instead, “Though it wasn’t without some worry.”

Washington frowned, having a very strong inkling as to what the A.I. Fragment was referring to, “I’m really sorry for making you worry, Iota.” He told Iota quietly, hands gripping the hospital sheets pooling around him so tightly that his freckled knuckles turned white.

“Th—that’s okay!” The somewhat younger-minded A.I. told Washington as he waved his own tiny hands frantically in front of his face, “I’m just…I’m just really glad that Locus got Delta and myself out of that storage container.” He shuddered at the memories that were no doubt being brought up, “I’m…I’m really sorry that we weren’t there to help you and Carolina when you needed us the most, Wash.”

Washington shook his head abruptly, not liking the dejected demeanor his partner was displaying in the slightest. He frowned, “We should have been the ones to notice that something was up with Temple’s group sooner.” He informed Iota, “So if anyone should be placing blame here…”

“There sure is a shit-ton of it to go around, huh?” A new, yet altogether achingly familiar voice cut into the conversation.

Washington closed his mouth, glancing over to the teal-wearing man in his hospital room currently stretching his arms over his head in a sitting position on his chair. The younger man let out a tired yawn as he did so.

“Sorry for waking you.” Washington murmured under his breath, ignoring the almost amused way that Iota glanced at him as he quickly averted his gaze from lingering too much on Tucker’s lithe form.

Tucker waved off the apology as if it were no big deal, “Dude, I’m just glad to see you up and talking in a way that actually makes fucking sense again.” He grinned at the rather clueless expression that suffused Washington’s features, “Doctor Grey definitely had you on the good stuff before.”

He raised a blond eyebrow, “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Not to worry, I’m pretty sure Palomo got it on video.” Tucker teased rather amicably.

“I…I did try to stop him, but—” Iota flickered sheepishly overhead.

Washington sighed and shook his head, “It’s all right, Iota.” He stated with just a hint of exasperation in his voice, “I’m sure it was very entertaining.”

“Fuck yeah, it was!” Tucker chimed in not a moment later, though his face took on a much more serious expression almost instantaneously as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Besides, if _anyone_ has to apologize here, it should be me.” He noted succinctly to both human and Fragment, “Especially since it took me so goddamned long to figure out what Temple was really up to, and for how you got shot…”

The dark-skinned man seemed to shrink in on himself then, his voice becoming smaller and smaller until it just trailed off entirely. It was a rather disconcerting sight for Washington, given all of the usual bluster and bravado he had come to associate Tucker with.

“I’m going to be fine, Tucker.” He tried reassuring the other man, pointedly ignoring the sudden urge he felt to touch the bandages covering his throat.

Tucker’s frown only deepened at Washington’s words, his dark-eyed gaze fixated on one particularly fascinating tile on the ground, “Yeah, but you could have just as easily _not_ been.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the space following Tucker’s sullen remark, and Washington desperately latched onto the first thing that came to mind to try and break it.

“Something about you now seems different, Tucker.” He noted.

Tucker fidgeted at the observation, turning a disbelieving gaze Washington’s way, “You think so?”

Washington nodded, a tiny sliver of a smile crossing over his face, “Maybe, just _maybe_ , something positive came out of this situation after all.”

Tucker proceeded to shake his head, a sort-of smile on his face all the same, “You must _still_ be on the good stuff, Wash, because that was just way too fucking cheesy.”

The smile on his own face deepened, “Maybe.”

A breadth of silence settled over their heads again, but Washington didn’t really mind it this time. Tucker moved his chair even closer to Washington’s bed, his hand resting at the edge of the mattress. Washington was well aware that if he moved his own hand only slightly, they would touch. He took a deep breath, fingers twitching with the thought as he noticed Tucker’s own apparently doing much the same…

“Agent Washingtub! You’re awake!”

Tucker’s hand disappointedly flew off the bed at Caboose’s happy exclamation, the younger male having jumped up out of his makeshift bed with an excited clatter.

Washington smiled, “That’s right, Caboose.”

He had barely finished the sentence when both he and Tucker were pulled into a tight, almost crushing hug by the larger man. “Oh, this is so great!” Caboose exclaimed joyfully, “Now all we need is to get Carolina and Delta, and then Blue Team will be complete!” The blue-armored man let out an excited gasp of air, “We should have a party to celebrate!”

Over the top of Caboose’s blond head of hair, Washington shot a questioning glance at both Tucker and Iota for further explanation.

“Carolina was also hospitalized upon her return to Chorus.” The cyan-armored hologram elaborated.

Tucker scoffed at the alarm building up on Washington’s features, “Yeah, but I wouldn’t worry too much about her, dude. She’s already hard at work planning an escape.” He reassured him.

Washington grinned appreciatively at the news, “The boss _is_ a strong one.”

“Yes, well, _infuriating_ could also be another way to describe it.” The singsong voice of Doctor Emily Grey all but chirped as the dark-skinned woman entered the room, Sarge surprisingly hot on her heels.

She smiled brightly over at Washington as Caboose reluctantly pulled away from his teammates to give them space to breathe, “I certainly hope that you will be a tad more considerate when it comes to the hardworking hospital staff here now that you’re more lucid, hmm?”

The doctor’s tone was completely cordial and gentle, but there was a momentary glimmer in her observant eyes that indicated all too well how there was only one correct answer to her query.

Washington gulped slightly on reflex, “Y—yes, ma’am.”

The dark-haired woman’s smile widened, and the momentary fear he had felt only lessened somewhat. Grey was _not_ someone you trifled with.

“When will Carolina and Wash be able to leave, exactly?” Tucker asked Grey now that he was finally able to breathe again following Caboose’s bear hug.

“They both still need time to properly recover,” she shot the youngest Blue in the room an apologetic look, “So I am afraid to say that any party plans should be put on hold for the moment.” Disappointed noises came from both Tucker and Caboose at that, though Grey continued, “I am hopeful that it will only be two or three more weeks.”

A loud guffaw came from the red-armored man standing beside her, “Don’t look so down, men!” Sarge stated rather emphatically, “Red Team will help to throw one helluva shindig once everyone’s up for it!”

Washington frowned, remembering all too well what had happened the last time Sarge had volunteered his team for party planning, “Grenades and landmines still don’t count as fireworks, Sarge.”

“They do if you know how to party hard, son.” The old man harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest, “Spoilsport.”

There were still a lot of questions about what had happened since his injury, and about just what would happen next floating through his mind then. But, Washington was more than content to push those concerns to the side if only for the moment, since he was fully awake and surrounded by some of his friends yet again for what felt like the first time in ages.

*****

Agent South Dakota was enjoying her dinner with her usual fervor. Basically, that meant she was rather forcefully spearing the little baby tomato substitutes Chorus used, currently imagining doing the same thing to invisible, tiny foes.

The various mess halls that had been in operation during all of the fighting on Chorus were still functioning in much the same capacity during these first tentative months of peacetime, with more varied or fancier, specialized restaurants just beginning to stand on their own two feet. The idea was to help ensure that everyone, regardless of what possible income they were starting to make, could be assured of a square meal while things were still working themselves out.

If nothing else, South usually preferred this particular mess hall simply due to its convenient location to the government and training facilities. Not to mention, she very much enjoyed saving up her personal funds for her ever-growing cache of privately procured weapons.

Besides, the other Chorus residents and staff who frequented the mess hall knew her, as well as knew about her various personality quirks. They gave her a respectably wide berth as a result, something she greatly appreciated.

The last of the little tomato-like vegetables on her plate met its end on her fork with a delightfully loud splurt, and South quickly ripped it off the utensil with her teeth, relishing the squishiness on her tongue that followed.

As she continued to forcefully chew her bite, she glared down at what remained on her plate in order to pick out the piece of food that most offended her next for a forkful of bitter justice, ignoring the golden shimmer that appeared over her shoulder as she did so.

“You…you know that’s why we tend to eat alone, right?” Eta timidly joked, the A.I. Fragment already flinching back as if afraid that South would somehow devise a way to physically hit their hologram.

Not that South would ever do that, though there had been instances of sheer frustration in the past where she would have been sorely tempted to do so. No, rather she actually encouraged the fearful A.I. to develop something of a spine when it came to snark, suspecting that a slight boost in confidence could help speed up her partner’s support functions when needed.

Still, that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a time or a place for such displays. Criticizing South’s eating habits wasn’t exactly high on that list.

“And here I thought it was my winning personality.” She sarcastically replied, not even bothering to look up from her plate. Eta hovered silently for a good two minutes, as if debating on what to say next and internally freaking out over the possible outcomes. South finally decided to show her partner a small sliver of pity, “Careful, Eta.” She advised with a growing smirk on her face, “Let’s just leave it at that so we can all walk away in one piece.”

And, by that statement, she was most definitely specifically referring to the gold-armored Fragment. There weren’t many situations that South _wouldn’t_ walk out of okay. She always made damn sure of that.

“R—right.” Eta shakily nodded, saying nothing else while seemingly content watching South continue to massacre her meal.

South didn’t even bother glancing up from her mushed handiwork when a tray was placed across from her own, someone sitting in the seat behind it not a moment later. She figured that it had to be either one of the Reds or Blues, or the lieutenants they had helped train. No one else save Doctor Grey, who usually ate at the hospital now, would have had the fucking balls to do so.

On rare, _rare_ occasions, Kimball might actually take a break and go to eat with her bodyguard. But, usually one of her assistants would have to track the hardworking President down and force her to actually remember to eat something. South didn’t force the issue herself. It wasn’t her job to make sure Kimball ate.

After all, she was on the lookout for potential outward threats and was not a goddamned babysitter, which was also the main reason she had only ever worked with the lieutenants and couldn’t be bothered to train them like the others had. Though she _had_ on some occasions brought Kimball a bottle of water or some coffee, if only to keep Carolina’s messages about the importance of proper hydration for her employer to a bare minimum.

She did, however, note a sudden increase in anxiety from Eta that usually didn’t happen when someone he knew well enough deigned to sit with them. Her pale blond eyebrows rose a fraction later when the newcomer spoke up. She wasn’t the type for casual fucking conversation during meal time either.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Dylan Andrews’ voice was curt and professional, even as she politely requested something.

South made a face in response, giving the brown-haired woman one of her customary glares, “It’s a little late to be asking that once you’ve sat your ass down.”

The reporter blinked, though she remained eerily calm even with South’s attempts at intimidation in the hopes of getting her to leave, “I apologize. I may have been a tad too presumptuous.”

South rolled her ice blue eyes, “No fucking shit.”

“S—South…!” Eta spoke up in fearful warning a second later, glancing nervously between the two human women.

“Quiet, Eta.” She promptly told him in the hopes that it would calm the A.I.’s nerves, “The grownups are talking.”

She assumed that Dylan Andrews sitting _here_ of all places meant that the reporter had sought South out specifically for a reason. After all, as her now nervously buzzing in the back of her head A.I. partner had noted beforehand, she usually ate alone due to everyone else’s strong senses of self-preservation.

South had seen and talked to the white-and-cobalt-wearing journalist before. First, during Andrews’ meeting with Kimball when she had been given the message for the Reds and Blues _(during which South had threatened her to not cause them anymore trouble)_ , and for a few brief moments once the group had arrived back on Chorus. But, South by and large wasn’t exactly the type to look too favorably on meddling reporters and, as if she could somehow sense that, Andrews had tended to keep her distance. It was a level of interaction that South had felt rather comfortable with.

With a growing sense of annoyance, the Freelancer-turned-bodyguard couldn’t help but wonder why that had to go and change now.

“So, what’s up?” South asked gruffly once it became all too clear that the other woman had no intention of rising to her earlier bait and simply spitting out what the fuck was going on, “Do you need some sort of quote from Chorus for your article? Because, I can tell you, Kimball or just about _anyone_ else would be a better fucking choice for that sort or shit.”

Andrews shook her head, “No, I have just about everything I need already for the article to help prove the Reds and Blues innocent.”

“Well, good then.” South replied before promptly going back to ignoring the brunette, hoping that she would take the fucking hint.

Andrews picked at the salad on her plate, giving South a full second of respite before opening her mouth again, “Why was it that you decided not to retire along with the others?”

South’s grip on her fork tightened to the point where it nearly bent as she grimaced, “I thought you just said that you weren’t here to talk abut a fucking story.” She noted tersely.

Eta vanished from sight, the tension in the air a bit too much for the nervous Fragment to handle. Fucking figured.

“This is more to sate my own personal curiosity instead.” Andrews told her, as if that was supposed to be somehow reassuring.

“So, being an intrusive asshole is just a personality trait of yours then?” South countered.

Andrews stiffened, her lips pressing into a thin line. Still, there was a determined glint in her brown eyes and her body language remained controlled. South was almost impressed by her composure.

“Not like it’s _any_ of your fucking business,” she leaned back in her seat, deciding to at least throw the inquisitive woman a bone, “But I couldn’t really stop fighting.” South glanced over at the exit absentmindedly, “The guys had wanted out and that was good for them, but that kind of life isn’t for me."

“I see.” Andrews pursed her lips thoughtfully, “And that is why you chose to remain on Chorus as President Kimball’s bodyguard then?”

The orchid-armored woman rolled her eyes and snorted dismissively at the question, “What do you think?”

The brown-haired journalist did not respond, instead apparently choosing to change tactics entirely: “Grif and Simmons both share custody of the A.I. Fragment known as Theta, correct?”

Ice blue eyes narrowed considerably at the question, Eta’s panic becoming a coded crescendo in the back of her mind, “Your point being…?”

The sharpness in South’s tone did nothing to warn Andrews off the _very_ dangerous topic that she had waltzed into, “If memory serves me correctly, that was the Fragment your brother had back in Project Freelancer, was it not?”

If Eta could have forcibly ripped himself out of South’s neck, he would have most certainly done so at that moment. As it was, he could only fight against his wave of sheer terror to faintly materialize in front of his human partner, “South…!” He whispered furtively as he tried to block Andrews from view rather unsuccessfully, both cautious and panicked over what might happen next.

South glared right through Eta as if he wasn’t even there, her breath escaping in sharp bursts. “You do not get to talk about my brother.” She stated flatly, her tone a quick warning, “ _Ever_.”

Andrews appeared very much shocked for the first time by the rapid turn of events and sudden apparent temperature drop in the mess hall, “I—I didn’t mean any disrespect to Agent North—”

She cut off abruptly when South all but leapt to her feet, “Then just keep your damned mouth shut.”

“I am very sorry that I upset you so much, South.” Andrews stated. The other woman rose to her feet as well, hand raised in South’s direction as if she had been thinking of touching her but ultimately decided against it. A wise move on the reporter’s end, as South was very much like a snake coiled to strike at anything that moved in that very moment.

The sincerity in the brunette’s voice at least helped to take some of the sudden edge off, and South straightened her shoulders as Eta relaxed a fraction, “Since North and Theta have nothing to do with your current story, do yourself a _huge_ fucking favor and drop this entirely.” She advised through gritted teeth.

Andrews said nothing for a good long moment, but thankfully nodded her head in careful understanding just before South lost her composure again.

“Good.” South managed to get out, suddenly feeling extremely grateful that she had a boring-as-all-fuck patrol to get to then.

*****

Agent Carolina didn’t even bother looking up from the datapad resting gently on the hospital sheets on her lap. After all, there was only one person in all of Chorus who Doctor Grey would ever allow to visit someone after traditional visiting hours were over. That was largely because doing so could constitute as something of a break as well for the person in question, an important thing for someone who the genius doctor was often scolding for _“overworking herself to death.”_

…There was also the completely unrelated note that the cyan-armored Freelancer had recognized her early morning visitor due to the first vestiges of the familiar scent of coffee intermixed with standard issue shampoo that had become so welcomingly familiar to her a while ago.

Distantly, the redhead wondered if the fact that she could still identify Vanessa Kimball by scent alone after so many months apart could potentially mean _something_. What that something was, she hadn’t yet fully grasped. However, she quickly drove the thought from her mind when Delta felt it prudent to greet their guest.

“President Kimball,” the A.I. Fragment stated in his usual cordial manner, “It is good to see you again.”

“Same to you, Delta.” The dark-skinned woman garbed in her customary colors of tan and ice responded, the smile evident in her tone even without Carolina glancing up to see it, “That goes for the both of you, actually.”

Carolina raised an eyebrow slightly and finally looked up from the ever-shifting string of news on the datapad, “Are you sure you don’t have anything more pressing to do than wasting time stopping by for a hospital visit?” She inquired, figuring it best to get to the matter at hand. After all, she knew Kimball tended to appreciate getting straight to point as well.

However, bluntness seemed to be far from Kimball’s mind in this particular instance as she outright ignored the Freelancer’s query. Instead, she opted to make herself comfortable in one of the chairs by Carolina’s bedside.

“Figured I’d make the rounds while I was here.” The leader of Chorus stated smoothly, nodding her head slightly as Carolina had to bite down a comment about how Kimball’s busy schedule _never_ took her remotely close to the hospital grounds, “I just saw Washington. He is doing remarkably better.”

Carolina felt her usual sense of relief wash over her at the statement, having known full well just how dicey the situation had been for her teammate. Truth be told, Washington had been extremely fortunate.

“I’ve been to see him too.” She informed Kimball, a slight grimace crossing over her features as she sullenly added, “Not for very long though, since Doctor Grey _insisted_ that I still needed to rest myself.”

…Which was why Carolina was still combing over newsfeeds well into the early hours of the morning, as it was her own bit of futile resistance to the doctor’s orders. The redhead knew that there was sound logic behind her stay at the hospital, a fact that Delta and several others were always infuriatingly quick to point out, but she still wanted to leave as soon as possible.

The reality was that she’d had enough of standing still to last several lifetimes. She suppressed a shudder at the involuntary surge of memories that washed over her.

As if on cue, Delta spoke up once more on that very same subject, “With all due respect, Agent Carolina, recuperating will be most beneficial in the long run.”

“You have gone through a lot in a very short amount of time.” Kimball noted as gently as she could.

Carolina rolled her eyes at the tag team reminder, “I’ve been through worse before.” She reminded them, thinking back to what had happened following Epsilon’s implantation and how it had taken _years_ before the two of them had somehow managed to cobble one another into something almost whole again, of watching North get torn apart by what was left of Maine shortly after, of _York_ , and of losing Epsilon all over again, “ _This_ isn’t going to stop me for very long.”

Despite being a helmeted hologram, Carolina could practically sense the frown that Delta was giving her. But, she knew it came from a place of concern. He had lost one partner already, and was not keen to see such a thing happen again. He seemed content to stay silent though, as if sensing how an argument could make her become all the more stubborn. After all, he had witnessed several past exchanges between her and York. Carolina opened her mouth as if to reassure the Fragment, then closed it again.

It was just to be expected, really. They had both lost so much with the deaths of their first partners in particular. That was why Delta still seemed more or less content to remain in her armor’s storage compartment despite Epsilon’s passing and also why Carolina never spoke of it either. Implantation was a line neither of them wanted to cross again, at least not yet. Just as Theta was so reluctant to do now.

Kimball noted the silent exchange between the two partners and thankfully chose not to comment on it. Instead, she focused on Carolina’s last remark as she nodded her head slightly in understanding, “I’m glad to hear you’re being just as determined as ever.”

Carolina ignored the slight twinge of _something_ in her chest at the other woman’s words, taking the opportunity to observe her. Sitting with a hunched posture in her chair, the dark-skinned woman appeared even more tired than she had during the war, something that Carolina would have thought impossible if she wasn’t seeing it with her own eyes. She frowned slightly, trying to keep the sudden inexplicable surge of worry she felt from becoming too obvious on her face. Instead, she decided to avoid murky water by focusing back on business.

Taking a deep breath, the redhead asked, “What is going to happen to Temple and his cohorts?”

The change to a slightly safer topic for both women had Kimball shifting in her seat, “They are being transferred to a prison here on Chorus.” She informed her, “Currently, we are attempting to gain as much evidence as we can on their involvement in the terrorist attacks against the UNSC.”

Carolina nodded, “That’s a sound strategy. With enough evidence and intel, the UNSC will not be able to refute that the Reds and Blues or Chorus were in no way involved with the attacks.”

Kimball inclined her head in agreement with the cyan-wearing woman’s assessment, “Diplomatic relations had been difficult enough to maintain before this occurred.” She muttered, more to herself than to Carolina.

Still, the Freelancer winced in sympathy, “It’s been that bad, huh?”

It was beyond unfair, really. After everything that the people of Chorus had been forced to endure, lasting peace still seemed a pipe dream in many respects.

A thin smile appeared on Kimball’s lips, “Let’s just say that I had thought that fighting for our very survival had been hard enough before.”

“The presidency suits you though.” Carolina couldn’t stop herself from mumbling.

It was true: despite how overworked and exhausted Vanessa Kimball appeared to be, there was that same stubborn determination glowing even more brightly than before around her. Chorus couldn’t have asked for a better leader during this hectic time. Carolina truly believed that.

Kimball’s dark eyes widened momentarily in surprise before Carolina averted her own gaze to her hands, and the redhead coughed awkwardly with the sudden realization that Delta had discretely vanished from sight.

When Carolina glanced up at her again, Kimball’s face had darkened slightly at her cheeks and she was looking at the wall above the Freelancer’s bed, “Yes, well, I try.” She quietly got out, a sort-of smile growing on her face.

Carolina waited a moment before she risked speaking up again. She cleared her throat and went for a subject change, “How has the South situation been?”

Kimball blinked before turning to look directly at the patiently waiting Carolina once more, the color beginning to regrettably fade from her face as she did so, “Surprisingly well, for the most part. Despite her impulsiveness, she’s been an excellent bodyguard.”

Carolina nodded, “I’m glad she’s found her niche.”

After losing North, South had basically been adrift and more or less simply going through the motions. Carolina had suspected that she had only stayed with the Reds and Blues because that had been what she and Washington had done. It must have seemed easier than figuring out what to do next on her own. The fighting that always seemed to follow the group had no doubt been a good distraction for South as well.

Kimball shot her a knowing look, “It looks as if you’ve found your own too.”

Carolina smiled at that, “…I guess so.” She noted, before a sad glimmer crossed into her green eyes. She set the datapad on the table off to the side of her bed, “Epsilon’s death hit me harder than I care to admit.” She finally said softly, “And this series of events brought some very unpleasant memories to the surface. But, I’m still glad for the team. Always.”

Kimball smiled gently and surprised both herself and Carolina by suddenly reaching out and grabbing the redhead’s hand, “That’s good. And, if you _ever_ need to talk about anything, Carolina, I’m right here.”

Carolina stared down dumbly at their entwined fingers, working up the nerve to give them an experimental squeeze before looking up at Kimball’s earnest face with a shaky smile of her own.

“Thank you.” She heard herself say as if from far away, before _whatever_ had just occurred dissipated into the air around them and she shook her head to dislodge the last fuzzy vestiges from her brain, “But right now? Right now, I want to focus on getting out of this damn hospital bed and _you_ have an entire planet to run.”

Kimball grinned at Carolina’s joking tone as they both reluctantly pulled their hands apart, “You just had to go and remind me of that, huh? And during my first self-appointed break in weeks too.” The dark-haired woman teased back, shaking her head good-naturedly as she left Carolina’s room.

*****

Eating breakfast at a mess hall once again was certainly a rather colorful affair, even with certain members of the Reds and Blues currently missing in action.

Richard “Dick” Simmons sat next to Kaikaina Grif, overhearing _(but not really intentionally eavesdropping, honest!)_ Franklin Delano Donut’s _“hushed”_ conversation with Frank “Doc” DuFresne from across the table. By _“hushed,”_ he of course meant theatrically stage-whispered for the benefit of everybody sitting nearby.

The potentially lucky others in their group were nowhere to be found. Lopez had pretty much refused to leave their temporary residence here on Chorus yet, even after having gotten a brand new body. Most likely he was enjoying the fact that everyone else had taken to exploring the rest of the rebuilding city, which meant that he was left blissfully alone to do whatever it was that Spanish-speaking robots tended to do when left to their own devices. Simmons didn’t know, and he suspected that it was best _not_ to know.

Sarge was spending a substantial amount of time at the hospital in Doctor Grey’s company and really, no matter how much Donut gushed about how _“romantic”_ that was, Simmons couldn’t help but be just a tad worried that the pair’s idea of a good date was probably to mass produce an army of robots to take over the planet when no one was looking.

Carolina and Washington were still under strict doctor’s orders to remain in the hospital, which naturally meant that Tucker and Caboose were spending a lot of their time there as well, along with Iota and Delta. Caboose was apparently trying to teach the Freelancers to make paper chains to pass the time, which had resulted in a video posted by Tucker of a seething Carolina shredding colorful bits of paper to scrap because it kept tearing on her while the teal-wearing man could be heard cackling in the background.

…It _also_ appeared as if Carolina could still use a few more lessons in relaxation from Grif.

Speaking of Dexter Grif, Simmons had woken up in their shared apartment to find himself alone. Yes, they were rooming together again while on Chorus due to limited space. No, it wasn’t weird or anything even if there were some nights when one of them would wordlessly crawl into the bed of the other and then they’d act as if nothing had happened the next day. Simmons just wasn’t going to blab about it because Donut or someone else would make a bigger deal out of it than it was.

So neither Grif nor Theta were around, no matter how much Simmons looked for them. Kai had gotten so fed up with the maroon-armored man’s meandering through the halls like a lost puppy that she had grabbed him by his still flesh and blood arm when he had passed by her room for the fourth time and forcibly dragged him to the mess hall to _“get something to eat, bitch!”_

Which is how he found himself in this current situation. Not at all missing little Theta or Grif in the slightest and wondering why they couldn’t have left a _fucking note_ at least so someone who _might_ be nervous or worried about their absence wouldn’t be.

That was just common courtesy and fucking decency, all right?

Doc was apparently still feeling guilty over having sided with the Blues and Reds before, having just said something else along those lines in an apologetic tone of voice for what had to have been the hundredth time today alone.

“Don’t be silly, Doc! It’s all water surging intensely under the bridge now, pounding everything to blissful smithereens in its wake!” Donut tried reassuring the purple-armored man, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he continued, “Especially given all of the help you gave to Carolina. She’ll be back to coming on top in no time flat because of you!”

“I…I suppose you’re right.” Doc smiled weakly in response to the younger man’s valiant attempts to cheer him up, though the brown-haired medic did not appear to be too convinced himself.

He went back to eating his food for a moment in a dejected manner while Donut looked on rather worriedly before something else seemed to cross Doc’s mind as he regarded the pink-armored soldier in mild concern, Donut giving a little start at the newfound attention being thrown his way.

“Are _you_ okay though, Donut?” Doc asked, pushing his glasses up the ridge of his nose as he did so, “Weren’t you hit with some kind of laser when that time machine blew up?”

Donut grinned in response, apparently touched by Doc’s obvious concern, “Thanks a bunch for asking, Doc, but I’m feeling right as rain!” He informed him, nodding to himself in the process, “The smell of burning rubber stopped a day ago too!”

“I hate that smell too.” Kai muttered as Simmons tried not to grow too alarmed after hearing Donut’s exclamation. That probably shouldn’t have been an issue in the first place, right?

Donut made a face in agreement to the young woman’s statement, “Oh, it’s definitely one of the worst.” He said emphatically, “Right up there with burning latex.”

“Totally.” Kai narrowed her brown eyes, “They need to say on the box which ones are fireproof.”

“Um…” Simmons glanced down at the table, feeling even his metallic face plating beginning to heat up. He was quite positive that this was a conversation he did not want any further details on.

Doc seemed to be so focused on his overpowering concern for Donut, however, that he was able to glide right over the topic of flammable latex products with surprising ease, “Still, maybe it would be a good idea for you to visit with Doctor Grey.”

Donut frowned slightly, “Gee, Doc, I’m really feeling okay though,” he began, before an idea apparently hit him full-force and he smiled brightly at the medic, “But I _guess_ I’ll go and see her if you promise to come with too!”

“M—me?” Doc blinked in surprise at the declaration, his face turning a surprising shade of red when Donut nodded his affirmation.

Simmons turned away from the pair quickly, getting the distinct impression that he had witnessed something that should have been private.

Kai was currently busy shoveling food into her mouth at a rate that would definitely have made her big brother proud, though she stopped to spare a quick glance in the cyborg’s direction at his sudden head turn. “What’s up, nerd?” She asked after swallowing the last bite of food on her plate.

Simmons was taken aback by the odd note of concern in her voice just then, which he had not heard from her since the flight back to Chorus when a beyond frustrated Kaikaina had cornered all of them on one side of the ship and promptly proceeded to bash all their heads together, saving Simmons and Grif for last, while loudly berating each and every one of them for having made the thoroughly sucky _“leaving”_ situation about fifty times worse than it had needed to be because none of them could ever just _“man up and fucking talk about the important shit, you morons!”_ …the end result had been her hugging Grif again while crying and saying that went doubly for him, and threatening that they better not give her anymore reasons to kick some sense into their asses in the future because she would _“totally fucking do it, just try me, assholes!”_

Simmons had never been both so terrified and awed by Grif’s protective little sister as he had been then.

He smiled weakly in response to her question and shook his head to dispel the rambling memory lingering there, “It’s nothing.” He assured her, “Just thinking about things.”

“Typical nerd stuff then. Gotcha.” She stated not a moment later, understanding blossoming in her brown eyes.

While Simmons started to splutter out a weak-hearted denial to her comment, Kai caught sight of Katie Jensen and Charles Palomo entering the mess hall. They remained standing in the doorway, holding hands and waving towards Simmons and Kai.

The tan-skinned young woman promptly jumped out of her seat, “Later.” She told Simmons over her shoulder, “They promised that I could head out on their _“cop”_ patrol today. It’ll be interesting to see what that’s like from the _other_ side of the cop car, if you know what I mean.”

Simmons’ brain nearly broke on the implication of her statement, and he continued to weakly wave his hand at the three younger people while Kai grinned mischievously and winked in his direction before scampering off to join the pair.

It registered a second after it actually occurred that Kai had punched her big brother roughly in the shoulder in way of a sisterly greeting as they left, as the heavyset man entered the mess hall with Theta hovering over his shoulder.

“What’s up?” Dexter Grif greeted in much the same way as his sibling. He grinned at Simmons as he sat down in the seat that Kai had just vacated, Doc and Donut evidently back in line for seconds, “You ended up sleeping in rather late today, Simmons.”

Simmons bristled slightly at the semi-proud tone in the other man’s voice, “That was only because a certain _someone_ turned off the alarms and didn’t bother to wake me up when they left.”

It sounded ridiculous saying all of that out loud when it was _Grif_ that he was referring to. But the lazy, altogether knowing look in the orange-armored man’s brown eyes confirmed it.

Grif smirked and shrugged his shoulders indifferently in the face of the cyborg’s growing frustration, “I figured sleeping in wouldn’t kill you.” He noted, “Besides, all of you guys could use some rest.”

Simmons opened his mouth to argue, but promptly closed it again when he couldn’t come up with a good retort. Honestly, the events of this morning were throwing him for a bit of a loop. Usually, if Grif went to the trouble of trying to get Simmons to sleep in, it was because he wanted to do so also.

The notion had always been an oddly touching one in a way, even if his teammate’s laziness aggravated him to no end: being included in Grif’s plans of shirking duty had strangely meant something to Simmons. This situation was entirely different, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it or how to feel exactly.

Theta bowed his head sheepishly in way of apology, “Sorry, Simmons. Grif told me the same thing.”

Simmons sighed, his odd feelings ebbing slightly in the wake of Theta’s remorse. He could not, for the life of him, ever stay upset with the little guy. He smiled up at the purple Fragment reassuringly and shook his head, “It’s fine, Theta.” He assured him, glancing at the duo in a considering manner, “Are you here for your second or third breakfast then?”

If Grif hadn’t been sleeping in, then odds were good that he had wanted an early start on mealtime. At least based on his past actions.

The grin that Grif threw his way was an impossibly bright one, “Can you believe that it’s the first?” When Simmons simply stared at him in open disbelief at that, the heavyset man elaborated, “I was busy doing some things around the city for Kimball.”

“You did actual work _voluntarily_?” Simmons could not keep the incredulity out of his voice, or the slight note of hurt that entered it a moment later, “Without asking me for help?”

He wasn’t sure _why_ that second thing upset him as much as it did, but he was hastily wiping at his still organic green eye to cover up the pinprick sensation of a tear forming there.

This was beyond abnormal. Grif always wanted to do work with Simmons in order to help lessen the load for himself, if he wasn’t able to get out of it entirely. Or, to hopefully convince Simmons later on that he was a lost cause and that the maroon-armored man was better off doing everything by himself. Slight alarm was starting to build up in the cyborg’s chest. Was it possible Grif really did have a traumatic head injury after all?

Grif shrugged indifferently once more, apparently not noticing the building distress in the redhead, which led Simmons to believe that he must be a better actor than he thought, “I just figured that you could use whatever rest you could get.”

Oddly warring emotions raged within him at Grif’s comment. He was touched by the sentiment, but he could take care of himself, damn it!

Simmons countered back quickly, “W—what about _you_ , Grif?” He gestured to the splotchy, ugly bruising around the chubbier man’s face that still caused his stomach to twist horribly, “You were fucking injured!”

Grif frowned somewhat, “Simmons, I’m _fine_.” He stated rather emphatically as if to try and reassure the redhead, “Besides, I’ve spent more than enough time doing absolutely nothing while I was stuck on the moon.”

A heavy silence fell between the three of them at that comment, and Simmons felt the familiar knot of guilt clawing its way up his gut. If he could just say _something_ when it really mattered instead of freezing all the time like the insecure _loser_ he was, maybe things would have played out differently. He reached out a shaky hand to grab onto Grif’s shoulder, his mouth beginning to open…

“Look, Simmons,” Grif cut him off before he could say anything, his tone practically pleading as his brown eyes fixated on Kai’s dirty tray, “Let me just prove that I can still be useful, okay?”

Theta and Simmons both shared an alarmed look, the Fragment flickering momentarily in sudden panic. Simmons wanted desperately to reassure him that things would be fine somehow, as he tried thinking of just about _anything_ to say. A denial of Grif’s claim began tumbling out of his mouth before he could even properly dwell on what he was saying.

“That’s not—!”

“It’s good for you to rest when you can, Simmons.” Grif cut him off once more, rising from the table as he did so.

And the sudden turn back to Grif’s earlier remark, done in such a quiet and uncharacteristically _gentle_ way for the orange-armored man, threw Simmons completely off-guard. He was unsure of just how to respond to _any_ of Grif’s comments just then, as he watched Grif get up to join the line for food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick, Kai, come back! Those two really need your awesome head-smacking powers right about now! :D
> 
> I do not have as much practice writing for the Fragments, South, and Dylan…so, I apologize if that shows a ton in this particular update.
> 
> I honestly did not expect this first chapter to become as long as it ended up being. Nor quite as angsty either. 0_0; Still, I hope the bits of fluffiness in the Washington and Carolina sections in particular helped to balance that out somewhat. Things will get better for everyone eventually as things progress. …Hopefully. :)
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this extra-long, extra-rambling chapter! :D It was fun to write, even if my hands hurt a bit after typing it all up. XD


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

“ _Here_ , as you can see, Captain Grif sir, is the lookout point!” The yellow-trimmed Matthews intoned excitedly and with, in Dexter Grif’s opinion at any rate, a completely unnecessary flourish as the lieutenant swept his arms out wide as if to get the older man to take in the sight.

…The sight which consisted of nothing more than one rather solidly built watchtower on the outskirts of a rebuilding city. They were standing in what was simply a plain-looking room with windows on all sides.

Grif had seen his fair share of structures remarkably similar to this one throughout his altogether reluctant military career, both on Chorus itself and solar systems well beyond it. He’d never cared much to remember the exact number since they all sort of blended together, but he was sure it was a high enough one that the phrase he’d _“lost count”_ applied.

The orange-armored man wondered just how many more identical rooms he would end up seeing in the future, though he willed himself not to dwell on that particular train of thought too much lest he get upset again.

Besides, Matthews was still watching him with his usual hopeful, way too earnest look. The heavyset man figured the poor kid would remain standing there with his arms stretched out wide until Grif decided to show him a modicum of mercy. Matthews was still a suck-up, after all.

“Huh.” Grif breathed out as he stepped further into the space, Theta flickering to purple life over his shoulder once more as the tiny A.I. Fragment peered out at the terrain beyond the city proper.

Grif did the same for a few seconds to ensure that the little guy had overcome his obvious awe at the scenery, then he moved to the other side of the room to glance down at the bustling streets below. Theta still seemed to be a bit on edge due to Grif’s earlier actions at the mess hall a few days ago. He had hoped that maybe giving Theta and Simmons some time to relax again would help keep their anxious regards and concerned questions at bay for a just a little while longer since he hadn’t meant to make them worried in the first place.

Even with the light of day just starting to peek through the clouds, people were beginning to move about. Only about half of those he spotted seemed to be wearing pieces of armor, showcasing to Grif more than anything else just how much things had been slowly changing on Chorus.

“So someone just comes up here and watches things for a few hours every day?” Grif questioned when he finally tore his gaze away from the window to look back at the fidgeting Matthews.

The auburn-haired lieutenant nodded his head rather vigorously in response, “That’s right, sir! While things have been pretty peaceful on the planet’s surface these days, there are still some vestiges of pirates hiding out in the wilds and others who haven’t been nearly as keen on how the new government has been handling things currently.” Matthews informed Grif rather breathlessly, “Law enforcement set up this monitoring post just to help everyone feel more at ease.”

It figured that the people of Chorus still weren’t able to quite get the break and peace of mind that they so deserved just yet. He tried not to let the sad smile that was threatening to form on his lips show too much and diminish the still rather oblivious good mood that his former subordinate seemed to be in.

Instead, his eyes drifted downwards to two plain-looking chairs that were sitting side-by-side so closely that they were touching. The chairs weren’t particularly remarkable, being the same basic and plain type one always found around the bases of Chorus.

“This place seems pretty chill, all things considered.” Grif finally noted, indicating the furniture with his hands.

To his surprise, Matthews actually _blushed_ when his bespectacled attention turned to the chairs as well. The younger man kept his eyes glued on the chairs as Theta projected on top of one, sitting at the very edge of the seat and kicking his legs up and down in the air as he did so.

Grif could just _feel_ the energy of a tentative smile radiating from the more childlike Fragment’s helmet as he gazed up at him rather innocently, no doubt well-aware of how _“cute”_ the scene was. He felt his own lips curve upwards at the sight, knowing that Simmons would have gotten a kick out of it too. Theta was such a kid sometimes!

“Most people think the largest threat to Chorus comes from space now thanks to the blockade.” Matthews muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “I was assigned this particular duty when I was recuperating, but everyone still gets tasked with it from time to time.”

That still didn’t really explain the blush, not that Grif was particularly interested in delving into the young man’s personal life more than what was absolutely necessary. He had a reputation he still wanted to maintain, at least a little bit!

Theta was now practicing cartwheels on the seat. Fuck, Simmons would kill to see that. The redhead totally gushed whenever Theta felt comfortable enough to do the tricks they both knew the Fragment enjoyed so much. Even Kai would probably have enjoyed giving the little kid some pointers on his technique.

Despite his amusement, Grif decided not to raise attention to Theta’s antics, in case the A.I. became too self-conscious and retreated from sight again. Instead, Grif raised an eyebrow in the direction of the chairs themselves, “Given how low-priority it is, doesn’t that mean it is usually a solo job?” he asked.

Matthews’ distinctive blush only intensified, and he squirmed slightly as he started up his nervous habit of playing with his fingers, “Oh! Um, Bitters usually sits with me when he’s not on patrol himself.”

“Of course he does.” Grif couldn’t keep the knowing smirk out of his voice just then, and he briefly wondered just how far the two of them had gotten. When the Reds and Blues had decided to go into their woefully short-lived retirement, he heard rumors about his two lieutenants being overheard discussing ideas for their first _“official”_ date from some of the other soldiers. He wondered if that had just been idle gossip or…

“J—Jensen and Palomo sometimes sneak up here for dates too.” Matthews was rambling rather quickly now, no doubt wanting to get the focus away from both himself and Bitters, “And sometimes people just join someone on their shift if they want company.”

Grif sat down in the chair that Theta wasn’t currently occupying, motioning for the still very much awkward and floundering Matthews to do the same once the tiny hologram flickered back over his shoulder.

“This wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind when I initially asked Kimball for some work.” Grif admitted at length when the younger man in tan with yellow trim armor finally worked up the nerve to sit down as well.

“The President was probably just in shock and trying to figure out if you were being serious or not.” Theta shyly joked in response.

The chubby man sighed and shook his head, “Gee, you offer to be on kitchen guard duty _one_ time and you’re branded for life.” He said with a voice full of mock despair, causing Theta to giggle.

“Ah, I am sure that’s not it, sir!” Matthews was quick to try to reassure him like the hopeless kiss-ass he was, “President Kimball just wants to make sure that the Reds and Blues ease back into life here on Chorus before getting too involved again.”

It was the kind of sentiment that Grif would have been _all_ for awhile ago, but right now… He shrugged as his thoughts drifted off, “It’s cool, Matthews. I’ll just do what I can.” He figured all of the Reds and Blues would while they sorted out what their next course of action would be.

Both Theta and Matthews relaxed a bit at his comment and Grif swore that, with the two of them _and_ Simmons here on Chorus, he was surrounded by way too many well-intentioned worrywarts.

Theta gazed out one of the windows thoughtfully, “I bet Simmons would really enjoy this view.”

Grif hummed in agreement, trying to quell down the sudden longing he felt at the idea that if it was just the two of them sitting up here they’d be so very close together that their bodies would be touching. Recognizing that particular thought might be him heading into that dangerous _“feelings”_ territory once more, Grif chose to respond to Theta’s comment instead with, “It _does_ remind me a little of our early watch assignments together back at Blood Gulch.”

Back before all the chaos, death, and _actual_ warfare had so royally fucked things up. Back then, Grif had just been grateful for the escape from his memories of a doomed colony, no matter how moronic life had been with pointless fighting in a nowhere canyon. Back then it had been Red versus Blue. It had been so fucking simple and easy.

Back in Blood Gulch, he found himself feeling somewhat at ease and partially _okay_ just talking to an altogether way too high-strung and oftentimes infuriating suck-up of a nerd about both nothing and everything all at once.

…Now that Grif thought about it, it was actually rather disbelieving that it had taken so long for him to truly come to terms with how he felt. And he’d very nearly pushed it all away with his own words and actions.

Grif frowned as that oh-so-familiar wrenching feeling of guilt and hurt formed a painful lump in the pit of his stomach. _Never again._ He was going to prove to everyone just how sincere he was, no matter what.

As if sensing his human partner’s troubled thoughts, and he probably _had_ because Theta was awesomely observant like that, Theta’s holographic form tensed somewhat.

But it was Matthews, shifting awkwardly in his seat, who addressed him first, “Are…are you all right, Captain Grif?”

The tentative, obviously concerned tone of the younger man’s question roused Grif from his depressing thoughts for a moment. “What do you mean?” he asked, raising a dark eyebrow in clear curiosity.

Hazel eyes glanced at the floor nervously as Matthews bit down on his lower lip, “It’s just that, while I know how actually goal-focused you _can_ be, sir,” he tried to clarify, “It _is_ rather odd for you to go out of your way to request work when you’ve been given the opportunity to rest.”

Theta let out a tiny gasp, his head swiveling back and forth between the very hesitant-looking Matthews and the now rather blank-faced Grif. It had probably no doubt been something that he’d been wondering over himself, but had been too timid to ask about outright. So, now he was trying to gauge Grif’s reaction.

Grif remained silent for a few tense moments before he smiled in a rather self-deprecating manner, “Are you implying that your former captain is something of a no-good slacker, Matthews?”

The poor lieutenant’s expression paled considerably at the notion, and he clenched his hands tightly into fists at his sides as he emphatically shook his head, “O—of course not, sir!”

Grif rolled his dual-toned eyes and decided to cut Matthews off before he somehow managed to hyperventilate in sheer panic and pass out, “Relax, kid, I already know _that’s_ exactly what I am.” He assured him, letting out a small sigh as he did so, “I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.”

Matthews frowned in a thoughtful manner at his words, giving the tan-skinned man a slight nod of understanding all the same despite how it appeared as if he was suffering from some sort of inner conflict on whether or not he should try and correct him. Finally, clearly realizing along with Theta from Grif’s body language that he considered the matter currently settled and would probably not tolerate any protests, Matthews chose a different approach instead.

“I—I‘m sure that Captain Simmons would probably be interested in joining you up here too if asked.”

The offer _was_ a downright tempting one in so many different respects, and Grif could feel Theta’s nearly hopeful glance his way just then. But, if they were here alone together, the odds of them making things a horribly awkward mess by delving too much into the dreaded _“feelings”_ territory again like they had nearly done before were just too high for Grif’s liking.

Where they were currently with this massive, unspoken _thing_ between them was far from perfect, but in many ways they were still closer now than before following everything that had happened after reuniting. There was no fucking way that Grif was going to risk jeopardizing things between him and Simmons again.

As long as everyone was here and okay, so long as _Simmons_ just stayed by his side, Grif could make due with just about anything. He was sure of it.

Grif shook his dark-haired head, “It’s rare enough for the nerd to not be stressing himself out trying to find something to do,” he told Matthews, “So I’m just going to let him stay at it until he realizes he hasn’t been very proactive in a while.”

Matthews’ concerned frown only deepened, “But…”

“Trust me, Matthews. I’ve had enough of just sitting on my ass being alone with my thoughts to last _several_ fucking lifetimes.” Grif stated emphatically _(and then some, really)_ , cutting the younger man off, “But the others really haven’t yet, so they could still use some reprieve.”

That was right, he thought bitterly to himself. After all, they had all gone out first thing to try and rescue Church as well as figure out if they could clear their names while he had just, he’d…

_Pushed everyone the fuck away instead._

He closed his mismatched eyes for a long second, desperately trying to will himself to not venture too far down that particular train of thought once more. It was still far too easy for him to do so.

When Grif opened his eyes again, it was to the sight of both Matthews and Theta sharing a worried glance together. Theta shrugged his tiny shoulders rather helplessly, and Grif felt another sharp stab of guilt for making the kid worry.

“Right. O—of course, sir!” Matthews stated with a surprising bit of energy once more in a vain attempt at covering up his own worry, “You’re always so surprisingly considerate, even of your own peers, Captain Grif. That’s why you were always the best captain!”

Grif grinned in response to the obvious adoration flooding Matthews’ voice, “Now _there’s_ the proper ass-kissing that I’d nearly missed!”

Matthews eyes gleamed excitedly behind his glasses, “Really, sir?” He asked rather hopefully.

“No, but thanks anyway.”

Even as Matthews’ shoulders slumped at his last statement, the auburn-haired youth was still beaming proudly at the fact that Grif had deigned to thank him. The tan-skinned man couldn’t help but return the gesture somewhat.

“Hey, Matthews! I finally managed to get a hold of some of the good stuff for when your shift is over!”

Antoine Bitters froze at the top of the stairs when he entered the watchtower room, a six-pack of beer hanging loosely from his fingers as he stared over at the unexpected presence of his former captain and Theta. The dark-skinned young man’s mouth pressed into a thin line a moment later as resignation over the fact that whatever private moment he’d expected to have with his teammate/friend/ _whatever_ Matthews was to him now wasn’t going to happen just then.

“Lieutenant Bitters!” Theta exclaimed happily, not quite picking up on the slightly sour mood radiating off of the orange-trimmed lieutenant at the moment due to how excited he was to see a familiar face, “It’s nice to see you!”

“You too, Theta.” Bitters managed to say with a slight smile. He usually only ever attempted to do so for the sake of Matthews or the more timid Fragments like Theta and Eta, now that Grif thought about it.

Grif smirked and lifted his hand in way of greeting, “What’s up, Bitters?” He asked before tilting his head towards the beverages that the younger man with still vibrantly multi-colored shades of hair was carrying, “I hope you’re planning on sharing those with your former captain too. Orange Team solidarity and all that.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s Gold Team officially now, sir.” Matthews noted nervously.

Grif rolled his eyes, “Only because everyone here’s apparently as colorblind as my sister.” He griped before grinning once more and leaning down to pat the floor, “Come on, Bitters. We even saved a spot for you!”

Bitters rolled his eyes as well as he walked over, unceremoniously shoving the beer in Grif’s chest as he did so, “Up yours, sir.”

The three humans in the room were grinning in no time as the sounds of cans opening reverberated in the watchtower.

*****

The hospital corridors were so very familiar to Doctor Emily Grey that she was quite certain she could traverse them easily enough even with her eyes closed. The familiar sights and sounds of the place relaxed her in ways so few other things could. She enjoyed the whir and hum of the various machinery at work along with the hushed footsteps of her fellow colleagues. The sounds always assured her that even though things on Chorus were still tentative at best, healing was well and truly underway all the same.

General Doyle would have loved to have seen the hospital that now bore his name for those very same reasons, she reflected rather sadly. Even if the poor man had somehow managed to develop such an extreme fear of needles during their time together that she had been forced to snipe him from afar with a tranquilizer gun at the most unexpected of times whenever he had needed vaccine boosters.

Really, the lengths she would often go to help her patients!

But, today she was experiencing an occurrence that had become somewhat commonplace over the last several days, and that was that her usual break time trek through the hospital had gone from a solo venture to one involving company.

Not that Emily found that to be a bad thing, really, as she had rather missed the altogether fascinating conversation topics that she and the man simply known as Sarge had so often gotten into before once they had discovered they shared quite a few interests. But, the frequency of the visits and the added lines of stress and worry that clouded the older man’s already weathered features were a tad worrisome.

So much so, in fact, that the dark-haired doctor finally had to put her foot down, both literally _and_ figuratively so to speak, as she stopped in midstride down a very familiar stretch of hallway their walks together always seemed to end on. Doctor Grey turned to face the red-armored man who had also stopped to regard her actions curiously.

“You know, Sarge,” she began, deciding it was best to broach the topic delicately at first, “I’m quite touched that you’ve been visiting the hospital regularly even now that Agents Washington and Carolina are almost ready to be discharged.” She smiled brightly, a twinkle in her rich brown eyes as she continued, “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that you must have a crush on one of the staff here considering how often I’ve seen you interacting with them and your friends.”

Emily had long since lost count of how many times she had seen the older Simulation Trooper engaged in earnest dialogue with the medical personnel here when he was not with his teammates before he would catch her eye and move to join her on her rounds. According to what she had overheard herself and what her coworkers had felt comfortable enough revealing, the topic of those conversations always came back to the statuses of the two former Freelancers in her care.

Sarge let out an awkward laugh that turned into a cough, “Well, you see, Doctor Grey, medical science is still something of a passion of mine.” He informed her, “It’s all completely innocent, I assure you.”

_That_ was a coverup if she had ever heard one. A plausible one, to be sure, containing a partial truth.

She smiled fondly, “Yes, I still remember getting into quite a few engaging discussions on that very subject with you.”

The red-armored man shot her a lopsided grin, “You were no slouch yourself when it came to conversations about cybernetics or alien weaponry of mass destruction either.” He recalled warmly.

“Well, one should always have varied hobbies.”

A comfortable silence fell between them, and Doctor Grey waited patiently for the other person to break it. She figured that a round of pleasant small talk would help Sarge feel at ease enough to confide in her further, as she had helped gently remind him as to how he had done so in the past.

Patience definitely had its rewards, as Sarge looked awkwardly from her to the floor before speaking in a hushed tone, “’Sides, as _‘acting’_ leader of the Reds and the Blues until Washington and Carolina get back on their feet, I feel obliged to check in on ‘em.”

And _now_ they were at the matter at hand! She did a little mental jump of joy as she raised a dark eyebrow questioningly, “I thought that Captain Tucker was currently the acting leader.”

Sarge harrumphed rather dismissively at the very notion, “I still technically outrank him both in rank _and_ in seniority.”

Doctor Grey smiled, “Careful there, Sarge, unless you want someone to try and guess your real age.”

“Hmph, they can try, but I had that intel redacted awhile ago.” He remarked rater proudly, puffing out his chest slightly in the process.

“So your visiting so often has nothing to do with the fact that you betrayed your own teammates in regards to Temple?” The dark-skinned woman inquired, figuring it was time to well and truly broach the topic.

A stricken look clawed its way up Sarge’s face as he looked at her in both utter shame and astonishment, “How’d you figure that out?”

The younger woman’s smile was a gentle one as she replied: “Your new journalist friend and Caboose are both quite chatty.” His shoulders slumped and she reached over to softly touch one of them, “Ms. Andrews and Captain Caboose only told me about it out of concern, Sarge.” She assured him, “And I must admit, I have been concerned too.”

Yes, as much as she may appreciate and enjoy the man’s company, him being so wracked with guilt was quite upsetting. Bringing that kind of energy so consistently into the hospital wasn’t exactly conducive to the healing process either.

“It’s…it’s true.” Sarge admitted rather heavily, his brown eyes remaining downcast, “I turned into a no-good dirty traitor and all because I just wanted to keep on fightin’ _something_.” An impressively large sniffle escaped from his nostrils then, “If anything had happened to any of ‘em because of that, why I’d…”

The leader of the Reds shuddered rather violently as he trailed off, the mental images he was dwelling on clearly upsetting. Emily gripped his other shoulder in a gentle grip, causing him to look up with a defeated expression on his face. It did not fit him in the slightest.

“Sarge, I understand how upset you’re feeling, but things will be fine in time.” She stated emphatically, “Everyone is well on their way to recovery.” If the doctor had to believe for her own continued resolve that such things were true for Chorus as a whole, then she had to believe the same was true in this circumstance as well. “Besides,” she continued smoothly, smiling slightly, “You _do_ trust me when it comes to looking after my patients, don’t you?”

Sarge offered her a shaky, half-hearted smile of his own, “More than I can truly put into words.” He told her, voice surprisingly genuine.

It was nearly enough of an admission to cause her cheeks to darken slightly in the telltale signs of a blush, but she tried to move past that embarrassment as quickly as she could. “So there’s really no need to guilt yourself like this anymore.” Doctor Grey concluded, “Not that Washington and Carolina don’t enjoy your visits and inspiring pep talks, but they would much rather those visits come from a general sense of simply wanting to be around them, you see.”

“Of course.” Sarge nodded his head rather gravely in understanding, his posture straightening ever-so-slightly as he did so.

“Also, I can think of _one_ staff member here who would very much like to see you continue to visit when not solely motivated by a sense of guilt.” She noted, her mouth curving upwards even more.

“Really?” The look of surprise on Sarge’s face just then was absolutely priceless, and Emily had to stifle a giggle when the older man began craning his head this way and that as if in the hopes of seeing the mysterious hospital worker who evidently enjoyed the pleasure of his company.

Doctor Grey reached up and turned his head so that he was looking directly at her once more, “Really.” She smiled to further hit home her point.

She stepped closer towards him so that they were standing roughly side-by-side, slipping one of her arms around his as dawning realization hit Sarge all at once as his own face heated up with a most impressive-looking blush.

He smiled as he glanced down at their entwined arms, “You know, I reckon that Tucker is visiting Washington right about now. The two of us waltzing in there like we own the place could make them feel mighty awkward and jealous.”

The ways in which the Reds and Blues showed their camaraderie together were truly fascinating.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Sarge.” Doctor Grey said as her smile widened and she leaned further into the minute space that still lay between them.

*****

“So, have Tucker and that Washington cop guy totally banged yet or what?”

Richard “Dick” Simmons’ brain pretty much short-circuited at the casually asked question thrown his way, rather grateful that he hadn’t been in the middle of taking a sip from the mug of coffee currently in front of him.

In hindsight, he probably should have expected something along those lines to be the first thing out of Kaikaina Grif’s mouth as she sauntered into the common room of their temporary living quarters on Chorus. But, she somehow always managed to catch everyone around her off-guard all the same. It was a truly awe-inspiring type of superpower, now that he thought about it.

“W—what?” Simmons choked out, trying to keep the still organic portions of his face from overheating.

Lopez was the only other occupant of the common room just then and Simmons could swear that, while the brown-armored robot hadn’t bothered looking up at Kai’s entrance, he was actively _pretending_ now to be doing some kind of internal diagnostics check on himself. At least, that’s what he appeared to be attempting if the very loud and obviously extremely fake electrical humming emerging from the robot’s helmet was any indication.

“You heard me.” Kai stated flatly as she plopped down on the couch across from Simmons, right before a nearly pleading look welled up in her brown eyes, “Come on and tell me, already! I have this bet going with Palomo, and I’m _this_ close to convincing Jensen that her boyfriend running naked through the streets with nothing but a glow stick attached to his dick would be fun to film if I win.”

Simmons’ brain nearly broke again as the tan-skinned young woman moved her thumb and forefinger close together to further illustrate just how close to convincing his former lieutenant she actually was. Or, judging by the smirk and conspiratorial wink she just did, it was her closest estimate as to a specific measurement of a certain part of Palomo’s anatomy. Poor kid couldn’t catch a break in that case, even if anyone with an inkling of common sense would have told him that betting against Kai was a fool’s errand.

Simmons sputtered incoherently, and apparently the sheer level of insanity in the conversation was enough to cause Lopez to abruptly stop fake-humming to himself.

"No entiendo por qué todavía estás aquí. Lo acabas de romper.” _{"I don't get why you are even still here. You just broke him."}_

Whatever it was that he said to Kai didn’t seem to pique her interest any as she instead fixed them _both_ with a determined stare, “Well?”

Simmons’ mouth opened on the first thought that finally gelled there, “Um, which outcome are you betting on, exactly?”

"¿Eso fue en serio por lo que te sientes obligado a preguntar?" _{"That was seriously what you felt compelled to ask about?"}_

The maroon-armored man ignored the incredulous regard of a brown helmet staring his way, taking a distracting gulp of his coffee. He was pretty sure that the subsequent grimace he made at the beverage still being way too hot to chug didn’t help him save face.

Simmons could have really kicked himself as Kai’s smirk only widened in response to his query, “The fun one, duh. Has it happened yet or what?”

A moment later, Kai tapped her foot on the leg of the coffee table that didn’t match any other piece of furniture in the room whatsoever. Donut had nearly had a heart attack when he first walked into the common area space, and even now the pink-armored dirty blond would either ignore the offending table outright or sniffle pityingly at it and say how it couldn’t be helped yet given the situation on Chorus every time he so much as entered the room. It was obvious Kai wanted an answer.

“Prefiero que nadie gane esta apuesta.” _{“I'd rather not have anyone win this bet.”}_

“Ah.” Simmons’ brows knitted together as he tried to put his thoughts in order, knowing full well just how determined a Grif sibling actually _could_ be when they had their mind set on something, “N—no, I don’t think so?”

Not yet, at any rate. But the redhead and Grif had both thought it was only a matter of time, what with how often Tucker was hanging out in the hospital and even offering to look after Iota at times for Washington.

Grif had joked about how absolutely oblivious everyone was when it came to picking up on tension cues or others’ emotions. Right before he had crawled into bed next to Simmons, because he hadn’t wanted to walk over to his own all the way across the room.

Simmons let out an awkward sort-of laugh that he hoped hadn’t sounded too pained or nervous, choking out a _“I know, right?”_ as Grif grunted in agreement and pressed even closer against him as Simmons prayed, not for the first time, that the pounding in his chest wasn’t nearly as obvious or as loud as he thought it was.

They’d both gotten up and went about their day following that incident as if everything was normal, because it totally was, right? Though Simmons did feel a bit guilty when Theta had looked between the two of them as they continued acting like they hadn’t just spent another night in bed together in obvious confusion before he quietly muttered about how he just didn’t get it at all. It was a sentiment that Simmons could relate to very much, honestly, though it seemed they were just currently stuck in some sort of weird limbo where acknowledging things would be going _“too”_ far but stopping outright was in no way an option anymore either.

“Damn.” Kai’s disappointed reaction to the cyborg’s answer had him spiraling back from all of the confusing thoughts running through his mind as she pursed her lips thoughtfully, “What about Doc and Donut?”

“¿A cuántas personas estás apostando?” _{“Just how many people are you betting on?”}_

Simmons frowned, “N—not that I know of.”

Though, given how Donut had dragged a very weakly protesting Doc out by the hand earlier, determined to _“Put that sour frown back upside down, mister!”_ through what he had excitedly described as a _“good old-fashioned bare-all,”_ he wasn’t so sure how long that would remain wholly accurate either.

The young woman in yellow muttered something under her breath about how no one but her apparently knew how to party, and Simmons relaxed slightly, feeling as though perhaps the craziness was over and done with for the moment since she was no longer asking them any questions.

“¿Por qué no preguntas sobre tu hermano y Simmons mientras lo haces?” _{“Why not ask about your brother and Simmons while you're at it?”}_

Simmons’ head jerked up and over in Lopez’s direction then, the Spanish-speaking robot nonchalantly looking off to the side as if he was trying to come across as innocent of something. He could have _sworn_ he had heard him say his name. Beads of sweat began forming on his brow as dread filled his entire being. Lopez surely wouldn’t have…

Except he totally _would_ , and they both fucking knew it. At the very least, he could be somewhat grateful that Kai would probably be _just_ as oblivious to whatever it was that Lopez had said about him.

“Oh, bitch, _please_.” Kai rolled her eyes in clear exasperation, “Dex has banned me from ever betting on his sex life again because he is an asshole who never wanted to bet on mine either no matter _how_ crazy awesome it is.” Her brown-eyed gaze landed on a flabbergasted Simmons then, who couldn’t help but flinch at the suddenly very knowing gleam that resided there, “Besides, where’s the fun in betting on something you already know is a sure-win?”

Yes, Simmons’ fears about where the conversation had gone was confirmed in one single, utterly terrifying moment. He was pretty sure his entire body, cybernetics and all, was on fucking _fire_ right then and there as his mouth hung open like a gaping fish while whatever mechanical gear or piece that acted as his heart was pounding deafeningly in his ears.

“H—how did…?” Simmons barely registered attempting to say anything while an also thoroughly shocked Lopez jumped to his feet to regard Kai in disbelief.

“Santo cielo, ¿realmente sabes español?” _{“Holy fuck, you actually know Spanish?”}_

Kai hummed happily at both of their stunned reactions, nodding her dark-haired head in response to whatever it was that Lopez had asked her, “I picked up a bit from all of the raves and clubbing I do.” She informed the robot, her eyes glinting rather dangerously a second later, “I know enough Spanish, at least, to figure out when someone happens to be talking shit about my big bro.”

Lopez looked slightly away, his shoulders shrugging as though in a mild form of apology. Kai’s gaze became open and friendly once again a mere second later, as if the matter was no longer a big deal to her. She looked over at Simmons again instead, raising an eyebrow as she did so, “C’mon, gray nerd guy, it’s been totally obvious.”

Simmons let out a nervous squawk of laughter then, unsure of how to respond. It wasn’t like he could outright deny that _something_ was going on, but there was the whole _“no talking about it”_ agreement. Plus, would Grif even think of things the same or was Simmons just projecting wishful thinking onto him and…

…And what if Grif actually spilled his thoughts and feelings again, and Simmons’ brain froze once more and he did the worst thing he could possibly do and just _fucking stand there_ again like the indecisive, unsure idiot that he was. The redhead was terrified, convinced he would only make things worse if he even tried to say anything because that is what had always happened whenever he had managed to somehow speak his fucking mind in the past. So long as Grif was content with _whatever_ this was, as long as he stayed around this time, Simmons was going to just try to be with him as much as he could. He failed so much at saying anything he really wanted to say, but hopefully… _hopefully_ he wouldn’t fail to just be there for Grif again.

Simmons was pathetic, he knew that. But he just wanted Grif to be around, no matter if holding back on feelings he wasn’t sure someone would want to hear about in the first place _(because who the hell would really want to hear that type of stuff from someone like him to begin with?)_ was the only way he could ensure that.

The maroon-armored man felt like he was going to faint. It was probably a good thing he was already sitting down, given how his vision was starting to get spotty through the sheer levels of panic he was feeling.

“Cuéntame sobre eso. Solo fueron los otros imbéciles quienes no juntaron dos y dos sobre lo que significaba estar encerrados en el armario de almacenamiento.” _{“Tell me about it. It was only the other morons who didn't put two and two together about what their being locked in the storage closet meant.”}_

Lopez said something, and he was nodding his head solemnly as if he was in absolute agreement with what Kai had said previously.

Poor Simmons, meanwhile, was still very much trying to get his incredibly stressed out mind to wrap around this turn of events, “I don’t…we…” He stopped, then tried again after getting in a gasp of air _(oh shit, was he smelling burnt toast now?)_ , “How?”

Kai appeared completely nonplussed despite how she had just shaken Simmons to his very core with a few scant words, “It is one of my _many_ talents.” She stated rather confidently, leaning back on the couch with bare arms outstretched over its top, “I could totally be a Sex Psychic if I wanted to be.”

While the logical part of Simmons’ brain wanted to interject that he was fairly certain Sex Psychic wasn’t an actual thing because Tucker in particular would have gone broke trying to see one already if it was, Lopez let out what could only be described as some sort of electrical groan.

“Lamento que sea demasiado tarde para apagar y evitar esta conversación por completo.” _{“I regret that it is too late to power down and avoid this conversation entirely.”}_

The yellow-wearing female tilted her head to the side in a lazy gesture that reminded Simmons way too much of her older brother than he would have liked at this current moment in time given how the conversation was going.

She bit her lip, brows furrowed in a contemplative manner, “But, if my completely awesome and fucking legit powers are right, I’m guessing that you guys still haven’t gotten it on more than once.” Kai really way too accurately surmised, giving him a rather pointed look in the process, “And shit, that isn’t good at all because I want to be the _‘crazy, fun’_ aunt before I turn all old and gross.”

Okay, Simmons really wanted to interject there that he was fairly certain that wouldn’t happen regardless because neither of them happened to be aliens or anything, but then he recalled the often far too crazy but apparently totally real pregnancy stories that both Grif and Kai had shared before and he shut up. If there was some kind of super _“pregnancy”_ trait that members of the Grif family possessed, he was fairly certain that it was probably better to know as little about it as possible for the sake of one’s continued sanity.

Simmons recalled Caboose being worried once in Blood Gulch about somehow _“catching”_ a pregnancy and how he’d had to calm the freaked out Blue over a cup of warm milk to help him get back to sleep. They discussed how that probably wouldn’t happen to Caboose for various scientific and medical reasons well into the night after the younger man had somehow snuck into Red Base later on because Donut had baked cookies or something equally ridiculous, and that memory was definitely not helping matters any at the moment.

“So you two dumbasses really need to stop being whiny bitches and get over yourselves already so that you can get back to getting it on, because I totally called dibs on you dorks being already married back in Blood Gulch with Tucker who is _still_ being a total tool by refusing to run naked with me with a glow stick on his dick…because who was going to be holding the fucking camera then?”

Okay, Simmons had somehow managed to follow _most_ of that rampaging tangent though he regretted it rather immediately since he could really only articulate his response as an oh-so-eloquent: “Um…what?”

“En serio, ¿por qué sigues aquí? ¡Solo sigues rompiéndole!” _{“Seriously, why are you still here? You just keep breaking him!”}_

Kai let out a long-suffering sigh at Simmons’ apparent inability to carry a perfectly normal conversation in regards to his love or sex life, casting an almost pitying look his way that only served to further fluster him. “I guess I’ll go walking then or whatever since you robot dweebs are being pretty boring right now.” She stated as she got up and stretched, “Maybe see if I can’t spot that hot bodyguard lady again or the lieutenants.”

“No me mezcles con el novio nerd de tu hermano.” _{“Don't go lumping me in with your brother's nerd boyfriend.”}_

Kai waved her hand above her head absentmindedly as she headed to the door, “Later, losers.”

Simmons remained sitting there, completely frozen, long after she left. His coffee was probably ice-cold by now, but it wasn’t like he needed the caffeine boost from it anymore with all of the adrenaline that was currently flooding his system.

The blood was still pounding furiously in his ears, and Simmons was panicked that this tentative _whatever_ that was currently going on between him and Grif would break down the minute one of them so much as fucking _breathed_ anything about it…

“¿Has muerto?” _{“Did you fucking die?”}_

He started at Lopez poking him experimentally in his flesh and blood arm, the breath returning to his lungs sharply in the process. The robot seemed to be awaiting some kind of response to whatever it was he had just asked him.

Simmons ignored the telltale pinprick of tears in his eyes. That was weird. He hadn’t noticed just how upset he had become evidently, frowning as he tried to come up with something to say to the robot.

The thing that had been bothering Simmons and making him all sorts of anxious even before Kai’s interruption, that he’d awkwardly been waiting here longer than he’d care to admit in the vain hope that maybe the answer would come carelessly walking through the door at any second with a _“Sorry I’m late, Simmons.”_ tossed effortlessly his way _(not that he was_ expecting _that or anything, and Grif was more than capable of looking after himself especially if Theta was with him so it wasn’t like he should worry, right?)_ , came bubbling to the surface and tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Speaking of Grif, I haven’t seen him or Theta at all today.” Simmons let out a chuckle, trying to squash down his nerves and keep his eyes from stinging despite the sudden blurriness in his flesh and blood eye in particular that proved his attempt was failing, “Grif…Grif’s been acting a bit odd lately. Maybe. N—not like I’ve been paying any more attention to him than usual because that would be weird! Y—yeah.” He stifled an awkward laugh that turned into a watery hiccup, “Um, have you noticed that too, Lopez?”

Lopez’s visor looked the redhead square in the eyes until Simmons squirmed even more nervously. The robot suddenly sighed and walked over to the door himself, much to Simmons’ utter bewilderment.

“No importa. Debería haber dejado hace unos veinte minutos.” _{“Never mind. I should have just left a good twenty minutes ago myself.”}_

*****

South Dakota watched Eta’s holographic form vanish from sight like a golden shimmery mirage the very second that the doors to President Vanessa Kimball’s office opened, giving the woman a clear view of her tan and ice-armored boss as well as Santa both situated over Kimball’s sprawling desk.

Eta was still rather uneasy when it came to being in the ancient A.I.’s presence for some reason. It was a peculiar trait that her Fragment’s twin, Iota, and the others didn’t seem to share, so it sort of figured that she got stuck with the one partner who was easily intimidated by an altogether overly polite alien counterpart than even Theta was. Fuck, Delta and Santa actually got along so well the two could even be possibly called friends.

South had long since lost the patience or incentive to really try and correct the behavior. It was no skin off her back either way if Eta wasn’t feeling particularly social with others so long as it didn’t affect their dynamic out in the field any. Besides, Santa didn’t seem all that upset by the Fragment’s nervous avoidance tactics.

Floating above the massive piece of furniture was a rather detailed map of the solar system that Chorus was located in. The office lights had been dimmed so that the soft, glowing blue light of the map washed over Kimball’s face as she looked up at it. The color contrasted harshly with the red of Santa’s holographic projection alongside her.

“Agent South Dakota.” Santa inclined his head slightly towards her direction in a way of greeting. He paused slightly at a spot over her shoulder, where she had no doubt that Eta was cautiously peeking through the invisibility that disappearing had provided from the naked eye. Why he attempted to hide from another A.I. when it was futile was beyond her, but Santa didn’t seem particularly bothered: “Fragment Eta. It is good to see you both again.”

South felt a slight spike of temerity from Eta at the comment despite the comradely and cordial tone Santa always used. Even though she had gotten used to Tucker’s kid and Santa to a degree, she had to admit that having something that looked so much like merciless opponents who had tried killing you and everything you held dear for so damn long could be exceedingly off-putting. Though, whether or not that was Eta’s deal with Santa was something she hadn’t bothered to ask, figuring that he would tell her eventually once he worked up the nerve.

The former Freelancer ignored the A.I.’s greeting entirely, though Santa knew South’s brusque nature well enough by now to know she would, and she sent a flare of annoyance Eta’s way to sharply remind him that he wasn’t to distract her.

The deep-rooted frown on Kimball’s face was as much of a signal that the latest news from the U.N.S.C. wasn’t good as anything else would have been. South swore to herself. So much for those _“way too fucking obvious to actually be a secret”_ visits to see Carolina doing the dark-skinned woman much good if shit like this always greeted Kimball when she came back to her office.

“What is it that the assholes want this time?” South growled out, crossing her arms over her chest as she joined the other woman and Santa by the map projection, “Andersmith said it seemed more urgent than before.”

Kimball let out a weary sigh, “They are sending down an envoy to talk about these latest turn of events.” She noted, a wry sort-of smile crossing over her features, “No discussion on the matter at all.”

“And we’re still at the point where we’re attempting diplomacy and not just blasting ships out of the fucking sky, right?” South joked sarcastically, though she was halfway serious given how tired of all of this political bullshit she was.

“Unfortunately yes, in some ways.” Kimball said with a tired smile, “Though, tempting as it may be some days, even if we actually had the resources and firepower to do so I think that’s a fight we really wouldn’t want.”

South scoffed, though the platinum blonde knew just how precarious and fucked up a situation Chorus was in. Even with as infuriating as matters with the U.N.S.C. were, no one on this recovering world wanted to be dragged into another war.

“So now they want us to fucking babysit even more of their douche-y representatives, huh?” South asked bitterly.

“It is most likely just a tactical ploy to gain more of a foothold in matters pertaining directly to Chorus.” Santa informed her quietly.

The orchid-armored woman was quick to roll her ice blue eyes in response to the A.I.’s stating of the obvious, “Yeah. No shit, Sherlock.”

Kimball let out a deep breath, catching the woman’s attention once more before Santa could no doubt inquire as to the identity of this _“Sherlock”_ figure South had mentioned. “We aren’t exactly in an ideal position politically to argue against their decision considering all of the damage that Temple’s group caused.” Kimball noted, brown eyes lighting up defiantly as she tapped her fingers against the edge of her desk, “The sooner we can get _that_ particular matter resolved with the U.N.S.C., the better our chances at gaining total independence.”

South still thought _that_ particular goal of the people of Chorus was, for all intents and purposes, so very much a pipe dream, but she once again chose to keep her mouth firmly clamped down. She couldn’t blame them for dreaming big, all things considered. Instead, she merely frowned in thought and glanced disinterestedly at the map once more, “What are we going to do then?”

Kimball said nothing for several moments, turning her back from her desk and the map field to move over to her window overlooking the city. “What else _can_ we do at this point, South?” she asked rather carefully, but when she turned around again to face her bodyguard there was that hard-edged steel to the determined jut of her chin that South couldn’t help but begrudgingly respect even as a derisive smile settled upon her face, “We have to prepare, because it looks like Chorus is going to be receiving some U.N.S.C.-appointed guests very, very soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to apologize for suggesting a wholly inappropriate use for glow sticks in this chapter. XD Kai is a character with many, many awesome powers and talents. :D It is a shame she so rarely uses them for the greater good, lol. XD Meanwhile, her brother is totally a Moment Killer. XD
> 
> I actually wanted to write out that scene with Sarge and Grey when I first came up with the idea for this story being set after Season 15 because exploring the various character actions and developments in that season is quite neat. I’m clearly not at all done with that in the slightest, nope! :D Glad I managed to sneak their conversation in sooner rather than later. :)
> 
> Also, I sort of feel like Eta would need ulcer medication if he was an actual human in this story. Poor guy, I imagine it would be hard for him to be partnered with South initially, but I really wanted to explore the idea of South being partnered with the Fragment who is meant to represent Fear since I think their interactions could be quite telling and insightful for her character. No worries for the little guy though: South does care in her own way and I’ll showcase that more as the story goes on. He might even one day actually make another friend in Santa yet! :D
> 
> Kai’s thoughts on Grif and Simmons’ relationship are way too spot-on. Both of them are very much insecure idiots when it comes to dealing with their emotions and being in love, and that is _so_ going to constantly bite them in the butt in so many different ways throughout this story. It shall be emotional, but hopefully it will all work out in the end because these dorks do actually care! :)
> 
> Wowza, this chapter is also another long one. :D Thank you to everyone who read it! :D


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The debriefing room that the Reds and Blues had all filed into mere minutes ago was, in most respects, quite similar to the ones they had so often frequented during their previous Chorus stay. It was only natural then, Richard “Dick” Simmons supposed, that there was a distinct air of unease amidst the entire group.

In a way, stepping inside such a familiar-looking space made it feel like the last several months away hadn’t occurred, especially since they were still in the middle of fighting a battle for Chorus’ very survival. It was something of a surreal experience as Simmons settled into his familiar Red Team position alongside Grif, with Sarge standing at the ready in the front with Doc surprisingly standing by Donut’s left. Lopez was standing technically by the pink soldier’s right, but a few steps behind, as if the robot was afraid of actually being associated with the group.

Simmons couldn’t help the worried frown that settled over his features due to the pressing thought that Kimball most certainly wouldn’t have summoned them if there wasn’t some urgent reason for her to do so.

“Gee, this is starting to feel a bit like a Donut Sandwich!” Franklin Delano Donut tried joking into the tense atmosphere all around him as he glanced at the man and robot off to his sides, “Not that I mind being squeezed hard in the middle between two strapping guys!”

“Um, what?” Frank “Doc” DuFresne, who had clearly been lost in his own thoughts just then, had only tuned into the last part of Donut’s declaration, though it was still enough to cause the brown-haired medic to blush somewhat when Donut beamed over at him and tapped his elbow with his own all while offering Doc a conspiratorial wink.

“Esa imagen mental va a tomar una eternidad para eliminar de mis bancos de memoria. Gracias.” _{“That mental image is going to take forever to scrub from my memory banks. Thanks.”}_

Whatever Lopez said in response was further punctuated by his pointedly moving three steps farther away from Donut. Not that the younger man with dirty blond hair even seemed to notice, given how he had stepped close enough to Doc for their shoulders to practically touch as he cast an encouraging smile the medic’s way.

All that served to do was cause Doc to blush even more behind his spectacles, returning the gesture shakily even as the purple-armored man cast his eyes to the floor.

Simmons was fairly certain that he heard Sarge mumbling something about _“fraternizin’”_ under his breath. He looked over to where the two currently active members of Blue Team were standing close by as Michael J. Caboose looked around the room with obvious confusion and disappointment.

“I did not know we were supposed to make sandwiches.” Caboose lamented, “The picnic is going to be ruined!”

“Trust me, Caboose,” Grif spoke up with a resigned sort-of sigh, “I would be more gung-ho about being here if this actually _was_ a picnic.”

“At least there are no ants.” The tall, blue-armored young man tried consoling the orange-armored soldier.

“That’s true.” Grif replied before he shot an amused look over at Simmons, who couldn’t help but return the gesture.

“Whoa, how the fuck have we managed to get _this_ off-topic before shit has even gotten started?” Lavernius Tucker asked in bewilderment, giving Caboose an annoyed look when his teammate tried to comfort him by clasping one of his large hands over Tucker’s shoulder for so obviously just _“not getting it.”_

“I don’t know, Tucker,” a familiar, albeit still very strained and rather hoarse-sounding voice, stated jokingly from the now open doorway, “It all seems fairly par the course for me.”

All eyes turned to the two former Freelancers standing there. Whatever Tucker was about to say fell completely to the wayside when the teal soldier’s eyes landed on Agent Washington in particular, his mouth snapping shut as both surprise and relief flooded over his face.

“Agent Washington!” Caboose happily exclaimed, clapping his hands together and only just managing to keep himself jumping in place instead of racing forwards to engulf both Freelancers in one of his impressive bone-crushing hugs, “Agent Carolina! You’re all better!”

“More or less.” Washington assured the younger man, “We were discharged earlier this morning.”

Tucker scoffed, looking decidedly unimpressed by this bit of news, “And what? You decided not to tell us because it just fucking slipped your minds or something?” He demanded, “Dude, I…” he paused as if catching on to whatever it was he was about to say and deciding it wasn’t the best thing to reveal, “I mean _we_ would have totally come to get you!”

“Yes,” Caboose intoned rather seriously behind him, “And then we would have had a welcome back picnic with plenty of ant spray.”

“Now I really wish we _were_ having a fucking picnic.” Grif whispered over to Simmons, who smiled slightly and rolled his eyes at the predictable comment.

“That’s because you’re always hungry, fat-ass.” Simmons shot back jokingly.

“And you’re always a kiss-ass. Besides, you were totally thinking it too. Admit it!” Grif teased back just as readily, and Simmons conceded the point with a slight nod.

“Maybe a little.” The redhead mumbled under his breath, pointedly looking away from the chubby man’s triumphant grin.

After all, it wasn’t like there were many activities that would probably not be better than this feeling that something big was about to happen again.

Washington somehow managed to look both apologetic and sheepish in the wake of Tucker’s ire as he scratched the bandage wrapped conspicuously around his throat absentmindedly, “Sorry about that, Tucker. But we’d heard about the meeting and—”

“ _What_ , Wash?” Tucker’s tone was quite agitated as he stepped closer to the recently medically-released pair, “Knew we probably wouldn’t let you tag along since it’s not like you don’t still need rest, so you two badass Freelancers decided to just sneak in while we were all fucking distracted?”

Washington actually took a step back to keep the dark-skinned man from getting right up into his face as the blond held his hands up in an obvious peaceable gesture, “T—Tucker…” he started, casting a furtive glance over at Carolina for help.

The redhead in cyan armor, however, only raised an eyebrow in response. She was clearly more amused by Washington’s reaction to Tucker’s annoyed concern than anything else.

Tucker fixed Washington in particular with a pointed, assessing stare for a _very_ long minute before he let out a frustrated groan and threw his hands in the air, “Un-fucking-believable!” He muttered as he finally stepped away.

Washington blinked and watched Tucker take up his position next to Caboose, bewilderment clearly written all over his freckled features.

Simmons, meanwhile, worked up the courage to speak just then, “Sh—shouldn’t the two of you be resting still though?” He asked nervously, his anxiety suddenly going up another level.

Tucker glanced thankfully over towards the maroon-armored man to nod his head in concise agreement, “For once, the nerd asshole’s right!”

“H—hey!” Simmons’ shoulders deflated slightly as Theta appeared just over his shoulder to offer an encouraging holographic pat with his tiny purple gauntleted hand, which Simmons promptly smiled at the Fragment gratefully for.

“Simmons does have a point.” Doc noted rather carefully too, “Considering that you’ve only just gotten out of the hospital.”

“Yeah!” Donut chimed in, “I’d be more than happy to fill you guys in on anything important here! Plugging up leaky holes is always a pleasure!”

“Sé que daría cualquier cosa por no estar presente cada vez que estos imbéciles estén discutiendo algo.” _{“I know that I would give anything to not be present whenever these assholes are discussing something.”}_

Washington looked somewhat touched by the obvious concern being thrown their way even as he began shaking his head in response. There was even a small glimmer of the same sentiment in Carolina’s green eyes before she covered it up with a sharp flare of absolute stubbornness. The female former Freelancer crossed her arms as her posture straightened impressively, “Thanks, but I’ve had _more_ than enough rest by this point.”

She was no doubt not only referring to her time in the hospital, but also those hellish days of being stuck frozen in armor-lock along with Washington in that horrible room that Temple had stuck them in, surrounded by the decaying bodies of several of their former comrades. Simmons had only heard about the place, but he still shivered momentarily at the nightmare imagery and the haunting sense of hopelessness and loss that no doubt accompanied such a place. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what it had been like for Washington and Carolina to have been trapped there.

There was a green flicker over Carolina’s shoulder as Delta came into view, “The sentiment is duly noted and appreciated. Rest assured that I will remain astute in monitoring the agents’ vitals.” He tried reassuring the gathered group before quickly adding, “It was the most logical compromise we were able to come up with.”

Carolina scoffed and fixed her partner with a sideways glare, “Did you have to mention that last part, Delta?”

“Forgive me, Agent Carolina,” Delta bowed his holographic helmet, “I merely thought it prudent to explain how seriously I am taking the task of helping to ensure you and Agent Washington’s continued wellbeing.”

“While also oh-so-helpfully typecasting the two of us as being way too stubborn for our own good.” Washington interjected sourly.

Tucker raised an eyebrow, “Uh, if the shoe fits, dude.” His grin was the only response he gave to the exasperated look that Washington threw his way.

“I’m keeping an eye on them too!” Iota suddenly chimed in, his tiny cyan form practically bouncing close by Washington’s blond head of hair, “We’ll do our best, so don’t worry!”

The other members of the Reds and Blues all shared a look with one another.

“Well,” Sarge harrumphed after a little bit, “Our A.I. friends here do seem to have more of a grip on their limits than either Washington or Carolina do.” He conceded, clearly amused, “Outsmarted by technology!”

“Hey!” Washington started in protest.

Carolina, meanwhile, merely cracked her knuckles quite loudly in a rather menacing manner, “ _What_ was that, Sarge?” She asked while she did so, “I don’t believe I heard you correctly.”

“So I conclude this matter is over and done with for the moment so we can get back to what should be going on here!” The older man in red armor was very quick to say, clearly terrified.

_That_ seemed to be enough to mollify Carolina currently, as she lowered her hands with a self-satisfied smirk crossing over her face. Both she and Washington, along with their A.I. partners, moved over to the Blue Team side of the debriefing room.

Washington let out a tiny sigh of relief as he did so, “Truthfully, I was getting rather antsy in the hospital too once I was no longer constantly being hopped on painkillers.” He confided quietly to Tucker.

The dark-skinned man grinned in response, “I don’t know, Wash. Seeing you try to sing showtunes was pretty damn funny.” He joked, turning his attention to both Iota and Caboose, “You guys totally agree with me, right?”

“Um…” Iota glanced from Tucker to Washington before a note of a smile entered his voice, “I’m just glad that Wash is back to normal!”

Washington smiled and raised his hand to give the Fragment a tiny high-five, “Thanks, buddy!”

“The singalongs were fun, especially when Freckles knew the words too.” Caboose stated softly, “But I’m also glad that Washington and Carolina are okay now.”

Washington and Carolina both reached out to grip the tall Blue’s shoulders momentarily, and _fuck it!_ Simmons had promised himself he wouldn’t cry again as he dabbed at his suddenly watery eyes.

“That kind of thing always gets to me too.” Theta shyly confided to him.

Simmons suppressed a sniffle as he nodded in the Fragment’s direction, “I know, right?”

Grif, meanwhile, was doing his best to ignore the two of them for the time being. But, the slight eye roll and fond sort-of smile on his face showcased what a piss poor job he was doing.

“Dude, are you fucking crying?” Simmons heard Tucker teasing Washington.

“N—no, of course not!” The Freelancer was quick to deny, though he hastily had to cover up a sniffle.

That only resulted in Simmons sniffling a bit louder himself then, and the maroon-wearing man was rather relieved that the decidedly wet, blubbering noises coming from both Doc and Donut behind him mostly covered up his own embarrassing display of emotion.

“Y pensar que no traje ningún jodido pañuelo conmigo.” _{“And to think I didn't bring any fucking tissues with me.”}_

What sounded like a sarcastic lament from Lopez was lost on Simmons when he saw Grif roll his mismatched eyes once more out of the corner of his own. Simmons was caught off-guard a split-second later when the tan-skinned man’s hand landed heavily on his. Grif dropped it the moment that Simmons stiffened slightly in surprise at the physical contact and turned to look over at Grif questioningly, the orange-armored man acting as if he hadn’t done anything.

As Simmons’ often overworked brain began going into overdrive along with the sudden, inexplicable thudding in his ears, the door to the debriefing room opened once more to allow for the entrance of Vanessa Kimball and former Freelancer Agent South Dakota.

“Eta! Hiya!” Iota shouted cheerfully as his counterpart Fragment flickered to golden life by his human partner and he began waving the other A.I. over.

The fearful Fragment cast a tentative look South’s way after returning Iota’s wave. Her mouth was pressed into its usual firm line, when not outright scowling or smirking. The orchid-armored woman with green trim merely shrugged her shoulders rather indifferently to Eta’s unvoiced plea.

In the span of a few moments, Eta happily blinked over to where Iota was projecting behind Blue Team, their tiny holograms gripping hands tightly for a moment before they lapsed into a confusing, hushed babble that everyone usually affectionately referred to as their form of _“twin speak.”_

South’s ice blue eyes remained locked on the pair momentarily, the expression on her face remaining as guarded and utterly indecipherable as it always tended to be when she saw the _“siblings”_ interact. Then, she fixed everyone else in the area with her intimidating regard and gave a curt nod, “Looks like there’s more of you assholes here than I thought there’d be.” She stated carelessly in way of greeting.

Kimball’s surprised gaze had landed on Washington and Carolina, brown eyes widening a fraction at the sight, “Are you both all right to be here, or…?”

“We’re _fine_.” Carolina managed to ground out past clenched teeth, her annoyance written clear as day across her features.

Kimball fixed her with a probing stare, biting her lip in thought as if trying to figure out just how to broach the topic further when it would no doubt lead to further protest.

Delta decided to elaborate for his human partner’s benefit, “Doctor Grey did say that both Agents Washington and Carolina could move about within reason following their discharge from the hospital, President Kimball.”

“Really?” Kimball asked, once more casting an assessing glance Carolina’s way that the other woman met head-on with a stubborn one of her own.

Surprisingly, it was Carolina who ended up breaking their mutual eye contact first, looking decidedly flushed as she did so, “Can we please just move things along?” She asked with a heavy sigh.

Sarge gave a brusque nod, “I’d like to know what all the claptrap is for too.”

“Yeah, we all would.” Tucker readily agreed before a troubling thought seemed to enter his mind and he frowned, “Temple and the others are still on their best behavior in prison, right?”

Kimball nodded her head rather reassuringly to his question, “Within reason, at least.” She told them, “Though there is still an ongoing debate about whether it would be best to hand them over to the U.N.S.C. or try them here for their crimes.”

Carolina pursed her lips and nodded thoughtfully, “That makes sense, given how their actions have affected both sides.”

Tucker scoffed, an angry spark flaring to life in his brown eyes, “I personally don’t give a flying fuck either way so long as they get punished.”

“For Loco too, right?” Caboose asked softly behind him, looking down at the ground.

Tucker’s expression softened considerably at the sadness and grief his teammate displayed, and he patted his arm gently, “Yeah. For him too, buddy.”

“They will be punished, Caboose.” Kimball assured the Blue gently as well, causing the blond to nod his head in response.

Washington, meanwhile, frowned, “Discussing Temple’s group wasn’t the main reason you called us here though, was it?”

“Well, take a look at who’s still just as sharp as ever.” South smirked, her statement causing Washington to roll his eyes.

“That’s correct.” Kimball informed the steel-with-yellow-trim-armored Freelancer, “There’s the matter of a delegation from the U.N.S.C. coming planet-side soon to discuss.”

“That’s…that’s good news though, right?” Donut questioned hopefully, “Since it means that maybe diplomatic relations can start getting down and dirty once more?”

“Instead of being at a tense standstill like they are now.” Doc further elaborated, Donut flashing him a grateful smile for doing so.

The smile that pulled at the corners of Kimball’s lips just then was a decidedly tired-looking one, “If only things were ever that simple when dealing with the U.N.S.C.” She continued, “Their main reason for this visit is supposedly to talk about the troubling events that have transpired recently, but they are no doubt looking for an opportunity to scout out and investigate the alien tech still left on Chorus. I suspect they’ll try to gain more of a military foothold here in the process.” She ran a hand through her curly brown hair, “They’ll undoubtedly drag the whole affair out for as long as possible.”

“So you want the Reds and Blues on hand in case our involvement in regards to Temple’s actions need to be questioned or verified again.” Carolina surmised quickly.

Kimball merely nodded her head in quiet agreement, Simmons swallowing nervously in the process as he had very nearly almost forgotten that they were still technically fugitives until Dylan’s article helped clear their names.

“To complicate things even more, security is still stretched incredibly thin here on Chorus. It can’t be helped due to how so many have understandably chosen to return to civilian life.” The President of Chorus sighed, glancing hesitantly around the room, “I know that this is a terrible thing to ask considering all that Chorus owes you already…”

“But you could use some more help on the soldiering front while the delegation is here.” Washington concluded when the woman in sand and ice armor trailed off.

Next to him, Simmons felt Grif’s body stiffen considerably, but the chubby man remained as tightlipped as he had since the meeting began. Even Theta had stopped nervously fidgeting.

Kimball nodded in response to Washington’s assessment, “The choice is up to all of you, of course. I have no intention of forcing anyone to—”

“I’ll do it.” Grif stepped forward and spoke up even before Kimball had finished speaking. He adamantly refused to look at anyone else just then, staring straight ahead at Kimball.

Simmons gaped at the orange-armored man in complete and utter shock, and he saw Theta momentarily flicker in surprise over his own lanky shoulder.

South and Kimball both looked quite taken aback by Grif’s proclamation as well, the dark-skinned woman frowning, “Are you certain, Grif?” Kimball asked hesitantly.

Grif shrugged absentmindedly, “Sure. I might as well help if I’m here, right?” He flashed a brief glance over at Theta, pointedly avoiding Simmons’ stunned gaze in the process, “Theta can help out too, if he wants.”

Theta stood up quickly on top of Simmons’ shoulder, hastily saluting and squeaking out a nervous, “R—right!” in the process.

“I—I’m in too!” Simmons hadn’t really even had time to think before the words came tumbling out of his mouth and he took an earnest, shaky step forward.

There was no way he was going to let either Grif or Theta do this all on their own. Not again.

Grif was now staring at him in utter bewilderment and confusion, and Simmons felt the still flesh and blood portions of his face starting to heat up as the others around him started to do the same.

Thankfully, Tucker sighed not a second later and shrugged his shoulders, “What the fuck? I might as well too.”

“No es como si alguna vez tuviera una elección en el asunto de todos modos, ¿verdad?” _{“It's not like I ever get a choice in the matter anyways, right?”}_

Following Tucker and Lopez’s comments, there was a flood of colorful language as everyone else began to agree to offer their assistance.

Kimball looked beyond touched by the enthusiasm as she tried to process this unexpected turn of events, “Thank you. All of you.”

Tucker simply grinned and gave her two thumbs-up, “Hey, come on, it’s not like this will be a problem for us!”

South smirked in response, “Easy there, Tucker,” she cautioned, “You might want to wait until things are over and done with before you start saying shit like that.”

Simmons once again found himself choking back an anxious ball of nerves, and he glanced over to see how Grif was doing in the middle of all of this. The other man seemed completely lost in thought then, not even noticing that little Theta had jumped from Simmons’ shoulder over to his own to try to engage Grif in conversation.

The cyborg reluctantly tore his gaze away from the tan-skinned man, hoping fervently that things would end up being just as uneventful as Tucker was banking on them being.

*****

“No fucking way.” Dexter Grif stated without preamble, leveling his most stern scowl in his little sister’s direction.

Unfortunately for the orange-wearing Simulation Trooper, Kaikaina Grif had never been all that impressed or intimated by his futile attempts to try and stay in charge of their small household. It had been true back when they were two little kids who had only had one another to rely on, and it was doubly so now.

“You fucking suck!” Kai shouted back at him, crossing her arms over her chest and sticking her tongue out defiantly in the process.

Grif felt one of his eyes begin to twitch. It was Simmons’ former green one, a distant part of him oh-so-helpfully noted as the beginnings of what was sure to become a massive headache if this argument managed to drag on could be felt.

… _Fuck it_ , he could be _just_ as headstrong and stubborn as his sister and he was going to prove it! The fact that their arguments so often devolved into shouting matches where he was never really the winner was totally beside the point.

“Whatever, Kai. I’m still saying no.” Grif told her flatly in a tone that, for normal people, would have left no room for argument.

Unfortunately for him, his little sister was not a so-called _“normal”_ person.

“Fuck you, bitch, I do what I want!” Kai spat out, her brown-eyed gaze sharpening as she stamped a foot on the ground for added emphasis, “Besides, Dex, you haven’t even given me a fucking reason why I can’t come along with you yet!”

Grif let out a tired sigh as he ran his hands through his messy black hair, realizing he was _this_ close to pulling it out in frustration before spitting out through gritted teeth: “Things could get dangerous.”

After all, it wasn’t like the Reds and Blues had all signed up for an amusement park trip or something. No matter how fucking awesome an alternative that would be.

Kai rolled her dark eyes dismissively at his words, an unconvinced huff of air escaping her lungs, “I can handle myself just fine, asshole.” She reminded him rather sharply.

…And she had, in ways that had always both confounded and utterly astounded Grif: ever since they had been kids; or back when Grif had been drafted and she’d somehow managed to chase him all the way to a box canyon in the middle of nowhere; or when she’d been left practically for dead and somehow managed to create a thriving business for herself; or even tracking him down again after Chorus.

Kaikaina Grif was a force of nature, more than capable of things that even Grif would have a hard time simply _dreaming_ of.

“I know you can.” He stated emphatically, “But I would just feel a whole lot better if you remained on the sidelines this time.”

“Oh, you mean like all those _other_ times too?” His sister demanded, “I’m so through with that shit, Dex!”

He looked up to the ceiling of the common room, wondering just how long it would take to count all the tiny cracks spiderwebbing through the plaster there, “Kai…” he began, but trailed off when he realized he didn’t have a counterargument that would persuade her.

It was bad enough that _Simmons_ and the others had volunteered too. If _Kai_ somehow managed to get hurt because of all of this, then he’d…

Perhaps what he was thinking had somehow shown on his mottled face then, even without him being able to express it in words. Kai’s frown softened slightly, her posture becoming marginally less rigid.

“Fine. I get it.” She mumbled at length.

His eyes grew wide in shock as he gaped at his little sister, “You _do_?”

She gave a quick nod and then, suddenly, a triumphant grin spread across her tanned face, “Yeah, but now I’ve decided I’m going to join the lieutenants as a cop in the meanwhile just to see what life is like on the other side of the bars!”

And _there_ was the headache, along with his continued losing streak when it came to Grif sibling arguments.

“Kai, that’s the same fucking thing!” Grif tried futilely, knowing as well as Kai that the lieutenants were going to be involved with the delegation matter too.

Kai’s grin only widened as she stuck her tongue out once more, “Hah! Loophole, suckah!” She crowed in his face jubilantly, “You just said I couldn’t get directly involved with you and your dumbass friends this time!”

Grif started sputtering incoherently. In any other instance, he would have been proud of her ability to twist around his logic. Right now, though? He was _both_ immensely proud and annoyed all at once.

The young woman in yellow leaned over to kiss his cheek, “Just give it up this time, big bro.” Kai told him in a way that was both infuriatingly fond and rather taunting, “You’re not going to change my mind.”

Kai proceeded to merrily skip out of the room a second later, Grif oh-so-eloquently managing to shout out, “Goddamn it, Kai!” in her wake.

“Kai is certainly lively, huh?” Theta queried the moment that the childlike A.I. Fragment deemed the coast was clear enough to make an appearance. He actually sounded in awe of the tan-skinned female’s ability to brain-break her brother.

Grif let out a weary groan, “Trust me, kiddo, you have no idea.”

Theta glanced at the door that Kai had exited through and back to the heavyset human currently standing in the middle of the common room with his head in his hands. “Still,” the tiny, purple-armored figure tried cheering Grif up, “You did say that Kai was more than capable of taking care of herself, and the lieutenants are all pretty good soldiers too, right?”

The effort was very much appreciated, and from a logical stance Grif knew that Theta was correct. But…

He sighed, lowering his hands, “That’s beside the point here, Theta.” He stated quietly.

Theta’s helmeted head tilted slightly to the side as he regarded Grif in obvious confusion, “What…what are you talking about then?” He asked, voice rising slightly in alarm due to his lack of understanding.

Grif’s frown only deepened, and he felt even more like a jackass for making the kid worry, “Just forget about it. Okay, Theta?”

Theta continued to regard the heavyset man with anxious concern, but just as it seemed as if he was working up the nerve to say something once more, the door to the common room opened again and Simmons stepped inside.

The redheaded cyborg smiled in relief upon having found the two of them, and that alone caused an odd flutter of contentment to rise up in Grif’s chest. He tried to ignore that newfound sensation though, along with the unease he still felt at Kai’s insistence to get involved in the military situation, quickly schooling his features into a more relaxed expression along with his overall body language.

“Do I even want to know why Kai was practically doing cartwheels out of the building just now?” Simmons asked in lieu of a greeting, the slight upwards curve of his lips showcasing his amusement over the scene.

Grif rolled his eyes in exasperation at that particular bit of news, “Oh, that’s just because my stupid sister’s decided to become a cop.” Simmons blinked in surprise, and Grif couldn’t help but smile deprecatingly as he continued to talk, “I know, right? Maybe she’ll finally stop hounding the Freelancers about being ones if she thinks they’re all on the same team.”

He must have been doing an awful job at covering up his growing sense of trepidation over the matter, because Simmons frowned in thought, “Well, I’m sure the lieutenants would appreciate the help.” He tried reassuring Grif before fixing him with a rather knowing stare, “You’re worried about her though, huh?”

Grif shrugged, “Let’s just say that staying in a place as precariously fucked up as Chorus still is isn’t exactly a smart move for any of us, Simmons.” He noted.

Theta was suddenly _very_ interested in the collection of magazines that Donut had left on the coffee table in a futile attempt to try to cover up the offending piece of furniture from his direct line of sight. He was standing on one of the covers now, craning his head to the side to try and read the printed text adorning it that was nearly as big as his holographic form was.

Simmons’ frown deepened at Grif’s commentary, “Why did you volunteer then?”

“I figured we’d just end up doing so anyways, so why delay the fucking inevitable?” Grif shrugged rather carelessly then, his mismatched eyes taking in every feature of Simmons’ freckled and metallic face, “What about _you_ , kiss-ass?” He asked the pasty nerd, “Are you really okay with this?”

For some reason, the pale portions of Simmons’ face flushed nearly as red as Sarge’s armor at the question and he fidgeted slightly under Grif’s continued scrutiny, “O—of course I’m okay!” He managed to squeak out rather indignantly, “It not like I want or need you to do everything all on your own now!”

Grif smirked to cover up the own rush of heat to his face, the pounding becoming so much more noticeable in his chest in that moment, “You still have that kiss-ass reputation to uphold, huh?” He tried joking instead.

Simmons scoffed, “As…as if, asshole!” He stuttered out quickly, and it even looked as if the face plating he had was starting to steam up, “I just don’t want you and Theta getting dragged into anything dangerous without me, all right?”

Grif blinked in open shock at Simmons’ outburst, and the maroon-wearing man floundered and fixed his eyes on the ground as he also apparently just realized what he had said, “B—besides,” he spoke so softly that Grif had to strain his ears to even hear him, “Being alone before kind of sucked for both of us, r—right?”

Grif nodded his head rather awkwardly, a heavy silence filling the room as both men thought back on a past situation they would rather not dwell on if they could help it.

Theta glanced up at the two rather cautiously as the stillness continued to linger on for several more uncomfortable moments, “What exactly _did_ happen?” He finally asked in obvious concern for both of his human partners.

Neither one could work up the courage to answer him, or even so much as look the other in the eye just then.

Finally, Grif managed an awkward-as-all-fuck cough, “Maybe…maybe the three of us should prepare or something, huh?” He shakily asked, nodding to himself, “Yeah, that seems like the shit to do now.”

“Y—yeah.” Simmons was quick to nod his head in ready agreement as the two human men were able to finally look one another in the face once more now that things had been settled or, more accurately, _buried_ between them once again.

Silently, Grif and Simmons both shared a glance that quickly had them deciding together that this particular interaction was another one to be filed in their ever-growing _“let’s not bring it up again because FEELINGS”_ category for the time being.

…Much to their small A.I. partner’s continued chagrin.

*****

In her rare moments of free time, if South Dakota wasn’t practicing her shooting skills to keep them polished and up-to-date or perusing black market weapon sales to keep her arsenal just as varied and versatile as she preferred, she was a stickler for exercise. Whether that meant continued hand-to-hand combat training or knife combat, even if she had never been as good as someone like C.T. when it came to that particular skillset, or just spending untold amounts of hours in the gym, working up a sweat was a surefire way to vent out her frustrations and clear her mind just as readily as pulling a trigger repeatedly was.

Doctor Grey had once said that South’s ways of dealing with her problems might not be construed as the healthiest of coping mechanisms out there, but the dark-skinned woman seemed to respect that South had dealt with enough psycho-analytical bullshit in her life to not press the issue.

Best to leave that sort of thing to those it _could_ potentially still help, in the former Freelancer’s opinion.

Following the debriefing room drama, running became South’s decided upon poison of the day. It was perfect: you only had to give a cursory nod to someone if you didn’t feel like wasting time on unnecessary small talk. Besides, hardly anyone was even at the only recently completely rebuilt park at this time of day.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could _almost_ make out an amused North wryly commenting about how it was due to her hobbies and her genuine thoughts on how annoying even the most basic of human interactions could be as to why she had never had too many friends growing up or even during their time at the Project. She mentally showed her dearly departed brother’s figment of her imagination the finger and told him to fuck off.

South could run until her lungs were burning and all of her body positively ached, ensuring another decent sleep of dreamless, exhausted rest without the added pointless drama of insufferably whiny political stupidity hanging overhead. No infuriating commentary from, or flashbacks of, people who were long gone either.

“Hey, scary hot bodyguard chick!”

South blinked in surprise as she rounded a corner in the trail, having just started up her jogging routine. That oddly worded greeting was definitely not something she had dealt with before, and for a moment she figured it must have not been directed towards her.

The tan-skinned young woman who had called out to South just then wasn’t someone she had dealt with on much of a personal basis before either, despite being begrudging friends of sorts with her older brother and the rest of his dumbass team. Usually, she had only ever interacted with Kaikaina Grif amidst a flurry of others in a group. Even Kimball and the lieutenants had been around when she had finally entrusted her with Theta to get him back to Grif and Simmons on Earth.

Kai, nevertheless, was continuing to try and wave the other female over as if they had always been the best of pals. It was enough to cause South to raise a platinum blond eyebrow and jog over to the bench that Kai was sitting on simply to sate her own curiosity over what could possibly be going through the yellow-adorned woman’s mind.

Because, _fucking really?_ South’s general demeanor should have been more than enough of an indication that she didn’t like her workouts interrupted. The girl was either brave or stupid as shit.

As South approached, Eta peered curiously past her, apparently just as startled by Kai’s bravado and lack of survival instincts as his human partner was. “Um…you’re Grif’s little sister, right?” He asked rather timidly, South actually somewhat pleased that the gold-armored Fragment had worked up the nerve to strike up a conversation. Perhaps Kai’s nonchalant behavior had simply helped him overcome his usual anxiety.

“Yep, that’s me!” The younger woman grinned and nodded her head at the question before her brown gaze landed back on South, “So you have a little gray guy too, huh? That’s cool.”

“G—gray?” A flabbergasted Eta glanced down at his holographic body in order to make sure that his projection was being displayed correctly.

South frowned, distantly recalling someone once informing her of Kaikaina Grif’s peculiar case of colorblindness. It had been a rather awkward attempt at starting up a conversation with her, and the former Freelancer had not really even been paying much attention to just _who_ of the Reds or Blues had been talking then as she’d had far more pressing concerns at the time, like wondering just what her infuriating twin and his fellow Freelancer escapees had dragged her into, but she made a quick mental note of it now.

“You’re still as tacky gold as ever, Eta.” She assured the Fragment gruffly.

“T—tacky?” His shoulders slumped dejectedly at how South chose to describe his coloring.

“Sorry about that. Everybody’s a bit gray to me!” Kai chimed in, making a point of peering at Eta carefully, “Though I don’t know, little dude. I’d say you’re more shiny than tacky.”

“Really?” He cast a hopeful glance South’s way for confirmation and she sighed, rolling her eyes at the same time she gave a slight nod of her head to spare the A.I.’s overly sensitive feelings. Or whatever. A pouting, upset Eta tended to be even harder to deal with than characteristically fearful Eta was.

“Did you need help or something?” South asked as she turned to Kai rather abruptly, hoping that if she settled matters here quickly enough then she could get back to enjoying her free time.

Amusement danced across Kai’s face unexpectedly at that, her subsequent laugh managing to catch both South and Eta momentarily off-guard, “Man, are _all_ you super-special cops such fucking killjoys?”

The platinum blonde with orchid tipped hair glanced over at Eta questioningly, but he merely shrugged in response, once again as helpful in a conversation as South tended to expect him to be, “Cops?” She repeated rather incredulously.

“Yeah, you know, you bigtime Freelancer guys.” Kai elaborated, ticking the ones she apparently knew about off on her fingers, “You; that scary hot robot biker chick; the gray dork who keeps lying and saying he’s not a cop even; that _other_ scary hot chick with the ponytail.” She blinked as something else apparently came to mind then, a speculative frown showing up on her face, “Shoot. Is being a scary hot chick required for joining up? Because, I’ll have you know, that is both fucking hot _and_ lamely sexist at the same time if it is.”

“What?” South wondered how on earth the younger woman had even come up with that train of thought to begin with.

“Anyways,” Kai continued, kicking her legs up in the air in a rather carefree manner as South continued to gape at her, “I was just wondering if maybe you could help me find the station where Jensen and the other lieutenants work at since they hadn’t actually gotten around to showing it to me.” The younger Grif sibling expertly jumped up from the bench without so much as missing a beat, South rather impressed by the unexpected display of leg muscle strength despite herself as the black-haired girl’s thoughtful frown from before returned, “I mean, most of the really _good_ city tours usually end at a police station, but I guess theirs wasn’t too bad.”

“Yeah, yeah…” South tried to carelessly move the conversation along, but then Kai’s words actually caught up to her and her eyes narrowed, “Wait, what?”

Kai gave her a conspiratorial wink before she playfully knocked into her arm with her shoulder, “Oh, come on! Like you don’t know what I’m talking about!” She teased.

South was torn, truly torn, on how she wanted to respond. A part of her wanted to sharply pull away while threatening all sorts of bodily harm should Kai attempt getting so overly friendly or touchy with her again. She didn’t deal too well with either action, honestly. But, another part of her almost wanted to admit that, yeah, Kai maybe had a bit of a point.

She always had been the wild child and veritable black sheep of the family. She had lost count of the number of times that North had bailed her out of jail or intervened in a brawl she may or may not have started, even if she totally could have kicked some ass and _they’d fucking had it coming, come on!_

…Only for the asshole to then not even do the same to save his own hide in the end. Fucking typical.

Swallowing down the sudden taste of bitterness that was starting to well up in her throat, the former Freelancer chose to focus on the task at hand instead, “And just why exactly do you want to go there now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Kai’s grin was a million-watt voltage one, nearly causing South to reflexively squint, “I want to see about becoming a cop too!”

“Um…” Eta couldn’t apparently comprehend the tan-skinned woman’s declaration at all, so at least South wasn’t standing alone as she continued to gawk at Kai in open disbelief.

Kai seemed oblivious to both of their stunned reactions, however, as she puffed out her chest. Her smile only grew wider. How it wasn’t hurting her mouth to do that was beyond the Freelancer.

“I can’t _wait_ to get my hands on a new pair of handcuffs.” Kai stated excitedly before cheekily glancing at South once more and waggling her eyebrows, “I’d be all for _you_ helping me try them out, if you want!” South didn’t even have time to fully process the altogether suggestive flirtation as Kai reached over and grabbed her hand just then in a surprisingly unyielding grip. “Come on,” she informed the still sputtering Freelancer, “Let’s get a move on then!”

*****

Lavernius Tucker couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting awkwardly in his position on the landing zone next to Washington.

The older man leaned closer to him, their helmets practically touching as he said in a lower voice, “Tucker, _relax_.”

_Bastard._ The teal-wearing man shot him a very pointed glare from behind his visor. Washington hadn’t even _made_ a fucking attempt to hide the humor lacing his voice.

The Reds and Blues were all assembled behind Kimball as they waited for the U.N.S.C.’s delegation ship to land. South and Carolina were both standing directly behind the president. To no one’s great surprise, Carolina had wholeheartedly volunteered to be Kimball’s other main bodyguard while they were remaining on Chorus.

The two bodyguards were followed by Tucker and Washington. The others were all in various degrees of alertness behind them. The lieutenants, save for Matthews and now Kai inexplicably as the two of them were back at the station still, taking up the rear.

_Shit._ He was so nervous at the moment that he couldn’t even make a _Bow-Chicka-Bow-Wow_ remark at the unexpected innuendo in his last thought. Tucker made a face behind his helmet, “I can’t fucking help it.” He told Washington testily, “These type of things always make me impatient as all fuck.”

He was pretty sure that the former Freelancer was looking at him with the usual look of incredulity Washington always threw Tucker’s way when he said something that the blond-haired man felt was particularly mind-breaking, “Weren’t you a diplomatic ambassador before?”

“Fuck yeah, man, but I could tell you _loads_ of stories about all of the interstellar incidents I nearly caused back then even _with_ all of my awesome suave and charm.” He let out a relieved sigh, “Thank fuck that Junior has even a shitload more charm and charisma than his old man, or who knew what might have happened?”

“I can believe that, actually.” Washington muttered under his breath.

Tucker raised an eyebrow, “Care to repeat that, Wash?”

“It was nothing, Tucker.” Washington tried assuring him, but the amusement was still as clear as day in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit.” The teal-armored man shot back, “You’re _really_ lucky I don’t want to cause another interstellar incident right now.”

“Noted.”

They were both probably grinning under their helmets, and Tucker silently thanked the steel-and-yellow-wearing Freelancer for helping to alleviate some of his nerves. He took the opportunity a more relaxed mindset afforded him just then to glance over towards the figure standing further away on his left side in her customary white and cobalt armor, “I’m actually more surprised to see you here.” Tucker told the journalist amicably.

Dylan Andrews tilted her head slightly in his direction, “Of course I’d be here once I gained clearance from President Kimball, Tucker.” The brunette stated in her calm demeanor, “This is an incredible story.”

The dark-skinned man shrugged, “I just hope the U.N.S.C. won’t mind having the press around.”

“I would imagine that they will be more worried about the supposed terrorists in their midst.” She countered back rather dryly.

“Well, if someone would hurry up with getting her story out, that might not be the fucking case!” Tucker felt his eye twitch slightly as he spoke.

“I’m trying, Tucker.” Dylan noted in an almost apologetic tone, “These things just take time to spread.”

He sighed, looking up at the clouds in the sky, “I know, but it still fucking sucks.”

Dylan remained silent, perhaps unsure of what else she could say. Washington glanced over at Tucker once more, as if he was going to say something, when the telltale roar of distant engines could be heard overhead.

_’Bout fucking time!_ Tucker thought as the ship started coming into view, gritting his teeth. They all remained silent as the transport landed, the sound of the ship itself powering down gradually. Achingly slow for all present, the door to the ship slid open as several shadowy, altogether intimidating-as-all-fuck figures started to converge on the exit…

“Dylan! Guys!” A familiar, cheery voice suddenly assaulted their eardrums as a young cameraman in white armor with cobalt trim practically jumped off the landing ramp of the ship before it had even fully touched the ground. The newcomer made his way towards them with a definite hop to his step.

“Jax?!?” Dylan was the first one to overcome her shock at her former cameraman’s presence as she stepped forward slightly, “What are you doing here?”

The last time they’d seen Jax Jonez in person, he’d been giving them all a fond farewell before making his way to Hollywood to pitch some _“absolutely mind-blowing and uber-creative”_ movie ideas.

The easygoing grin that always punctuated Jax’s voice was still there as he talked, “Well, it turns out that the U.N.S.C. was _mighty_ curious about my movie pitch for what had happened with that Temple guy and the time machine drill. They even offered to give me a ride back to Chorus so that I could give them more details at the scene of some of the bigger worldbuilding moments in my film!” Jax explained, “Wasn’t that just awfully nice of them?”

Dylan only managed to sputter incoherently as the clueless Jax looked on at all of their bewildered body languages.

“Nice one, genius,” Tucker told Jax sarcastically, “You just managed to get yourself stuck back on a blockaded planet before you probably even got the chance to tell your story to someone who might’ve actually cared enough to fucking believe you!”

Washington merely sighed and shook his head. It looked as though they would be relying even more than they had been planning to on Dylan’s story to help them out of this mess. However, Jax’s unexpected appearance had caused attention to turn away from the _actual_ reason they had been standing by the transport’s drop-off spot to begin with.

That was, until a very pointed cough drew all of their attention back to the ship. One of the uniformed people approached, demeanor all business and painfully rigid-looking. He was an older guy with lines crossing his face, and facial features so sharp they could very well cut you. A spattering of still red strands seemed to be fighting a losing battle with the gray hairs of his perfectly cut and styled hair. As his humorless blue eyes fell over them, Tucker could just _tell_ that the guy was probably a bona fide asshole.

“I take it that you’re _President_ Vanessa Kimball?” The stranger asked the sand-and-ice-armored woman as he approached, his utterly dismissive tone pretty much confirming Tucker’s earlier asshole sentiment from mere seconds ago.

Kimball’s back straightened considerably as she raised her head and turned sharply to face the newcomer head-on and in a way that would no doubt make all of the people who had elected her as their leader, and even perhaps quite a few of her detractors, still immensely proud that she was representing Chorus.

…But it was _Simmons_ who suddenly addressed the man first, the resident nerd and ass-kisser of Red Team letting out a loud gasp from behind Kimball’s main delegation as he choked out one shocked word, “Dad?”

“Oh, an unexpected plot twist!” Jax breathed out excitedly from where he was now standing close by Tucker and Dylan, “That’s the sort of reveal that makes for one doozy of a cliffhanger!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MAY have managed to make this chapter about as long as the one before it simply because I really wanted to introduce a certain cameraman just so he could make meta-commentary on the ending. XD
> 
> …Seriously though, I absolutely adore Jax. :D I’m so happy he is finally in the story!
> 
> That reveal at the end of this chapter is probably going to add a bit more drama and angst to Grif and Simmons’ relationship because it’s totally obvious that’s where I would go with it, isn’t it? I’m woefully predictable like that. *whistles innocently* XD
> 
> This was a fun chapter to write, and I had a blast with all of the character interactions in it. :D I will probably be posting an update or two for _Shiny Things_ next as far as my WIPs go, which I may or may not have tried on purpose to time with Season 5 of _Voltron: Legendary Defender_ coming out BECAUSE I CAN! XD (Also, because that happens to be my epic and rambling/confusing _RvB_ Mecha AU story that was partially inspired by watching _Voltron: Legendary Defender_ so it just kind of seemed fitting, you know? :D But pretending I’m somehow abusing an imaginary power system is so much more fun. XD)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this really long chapter! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope future events in this fic will not disappoint! :D


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

David Washington couldn’t help but think that Kimball’s waiting room had probably _never_ been as crowded as it was in that very moment, what with the assembled Reds and Blues, along with the lieutenants who had been out on the landing field, Dylan, Jax, Doctor Grey, and the various A.I.s all occupying the space. It probably hadn’t even been that crowded during those tentative and rather tumultuous beginning days of Chorus trying to establish itself as an independent world following the dismantlement of Charon.

With the crushing press of people all around him, the former Freelancer in steel and yellow found himself nearly wishing that he had opted to enter the delegation meeting proper along with a rather insistent Carolina and an obviously distressed Simmons. But he knew he wouldn’t have exactly been at his best in there either. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Carolina being as attached to Kimball as she had so unexpectedly become recently, he was quite certain she wouldn’t have lingered amongst the U.N.S.C. representatives either given how out of her element and frustrated she got with political machinations.

Washington could feel as well as hear Iota humming happily in the back of his mind, and he smiled slightly at his partner’s attempt at distraction. The cyan Fragment would have been bored to tears in the meeting if he had chosen to attend it.

“Still keeping tabs on Eta, buddy?” Washington asked Iota quietly.

There was a brief pause in the gentle humming as Iota seemed to try reaching out to sense his twin located just past the currently closed doors blocking the goings-on from view, “Yeah, but beyond Eta worrying that South is going to throw a chair at someone he doesn’t really seem to be noting anything too important.”

“That’s far from unusual.” Washington murmured, knowing far too well just how tedious and slow these processes were, especially at the initial start. Political bullshit, indeed.

Even Eta’s concern over South’s growing aggravation wasn’t out of the norm. If Eta had been a human partnered with Agent South Dakota instead of an A.I., Washington was fairly certain that the gold-armored Fragment would have already keeled over from stress. As it were, he often seemed to be suffering from some kind of anxiety-induced ulcer despite not having an actual physical body.

“If any of you would like to do something else, Iota and I would be more than happy to hold down the fort.” Washington finally spoke up to the group at large, “These things can take a while. There’s no point in _all_ of us being stuck here.”

The blond thought that he was offering a nice reprieve for everyone in light of how he hadn’t been able to do much to assist following his injury. Therefore, Washington was completely caught off-guard by the incredulous looks thrown his way at the very suggestion.

From where he had been trying to dig a hole in the metal flooring beneath his feet all the way down to the lower level of the building simply with his fervent pacing, Grif paused just long enough to scoff loudly in the former Freelancer’s direction, “There’s no fucking way any of us would want to be somewhere else right now.” He informed the older man matter-of-factly as Theta hovered over his shoulder, “Especially not with the guy in charge of those U.N.S.C. douchebags being Simmons’ old man.” A dark look crossed over Grif’s dual-toned features as he frowned and much more softly added, “The very same asshole he’s had constant episodes and hang-ups about.”

Donut was quick to join in with a nod of agreement, “It does seem sort-of like the kind of plot twist you’d find in a soap opera, doesn’t it?” He asked, “Makes you wonder who is going to have an evil twin!”

“¿Doc no contaría eso por O'Malley?” _{“Wouldn't Doc count as that because of O'Malley?”}_

“Guys, come on!” Doc tried weakly protesting given that he could at least understand that Lopez was referring to him just then, his shoulders slumped in defeat a moment later as Donut gave him a consolatory pat on the back.

Donut tapped his index finger against his chin in consideration of the brown-armored robot’s words, “Gee, I don’t know about that, Lopez! I’d say that O’Malley counts more as a split-personality.” The youngest Red replied thoughtfully.

“¿Por qué es que solo me entiendes cuando es una mierda estúpida como esta?” _{“Why is it that you only ever understand me when it is over stupid shit like this?”}_

The pink-armored dirty blond, brown eyes gleaming, was eyeing Iota so intensely that he hid his tiny hologram behind Washington in response, “Besides, wouldn’t the evil twin reveal only work with actual twins?” Donut asked pointedly.

Iota leaned out far enough from behind Washington’s shoulder at the accusation to indignantly huff, “Hey, that’s stereotyping!”

“The odds of that actually being true have generally been blown way out of proportion by the media.” Doc added in, “Like shark attacks.”

“ _Never_ have a barbecue out on the water.” Caboose intoned seriously, as if that had actually been something any of them would attempt.

“Hmph.” Sarge looked away staunchly as if remembering something, “I still think it would have been a good idea if you hadn’t used sunscreen in lieu of barbecue sauce.”

“But that was the only way to keep the meat from getting burned!” Caboose exclaimed, “I was helping!”

…Okay. So some of them _had_ attempted it. Washington was seriously both very much curious and afraid to ask.

“Not to mention that whole evil twin scenario has been done to death already.” Jax was quick to get the conversation back on its earlier ridiculous track given his obvious love of film plots, and he rolled his eyes for good measure at the very notion of it somehow being applicable in this particular case, “Besides, parental reveals are more likely to be a story point in an action film.”

As Donut mulled that declaration over far too seriously than he should have, Dylan shot her former cameraman an incredulous look of her own, “How was it that you didn’t pick up on that familial connection earlier, Jax?” She asked out of trepidation.

“That’s easy!” Jax smiled brightly in recollection, “I just never bothered learning any of the guys’ names!”

There was a brief pause as his carefree explanation sunk in, broken only by Tucker raising an eyebrow, “You’re fucking kidding us, right?” He asked, “You rode with them all the way from Earth!”

“Nope,” Jax was still obliviously happy as he flexed his white and cobalt gloves, “I make it a personal policy of sorts to always get into moving vehicles when told to do so with as little information as possible.” He lowered his voice to an energetic whisper, “It makes things way more exciting that way!”

Tucker groaned in disbelief while Dylan exasperatedly put a hand to her forehead as if fighting off a massive headache. The gesture reminded Washington of his earlier interactions with the Reds and Blues, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling softly at the memory.

“It’s a fucking miracle you haven’t been killed yet.” Bitters muttered from his spot with the other three lieutenants-turned-police-officers.

“Oh, but I _have_ been shot a few times, if that helps any!” The young cameraman replied gleefully.

The equally young police officers all glanced at one another while Andersmith cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to smile at Jax politely, “Well, it certainly helps to put things in perspective, sir.”

“I don’t believe I’ve yet seen Grif’s crazy sister or his former subordinate who really needs to sit down and reflect on his poor life choices yet.” Sarge noted now that his attention was turned to the lieutenants, ignoring the looks of protest thrown his way by Grif and, oddly enough, Bitters, “Did she get him injured setting up a smoke machine or something?”

“That’s an oddly specific scenario, isn’t it?” Palomo questioned.

“¡Solo te lastimaste esa vez porque creías que estaba incendiando su propia base en un ataque sorpresa y se tropezó!” _{“You only got injured that time because you thought she was setting her own base on fire in a surprise attack and tripped!”}_

“We decided to let Matthews have our newest recruit run a thorough inventory check back at the precinct.” Jensen explained following whatever frustrated outburst Lopez had thrown in Sarge’s direction as she cast a warm smile Grif’s way, “We thought it might help lessen some of the current stress for Captain Grif.”

Sarge harrumphed, “You young’uns spoil him. It’ll go straight to his head!” He exclaimed. Loudly.

Grif was barely even registering the conversation going on all around him, but the mention of why his little sister was currently absent had him casting an appreciative glance the Jensen’s way, “Thanks, though it will probably only keep her busy for an hour tops before she gets bored.” He said matter-of-factly.

“As fascinating as these discussion _always_ are,” Doctor Grey cheerfully hummed out from the corner of the room she had been standing by next to Sarge and Lopez, who was trying his best to give them both an equally wide berth, “I wonder if I shouldn’t head back to the hospital myself seeing as how Captain Simmons has already recovered from his earlier fainting spell.”

Her entrance into the conversation nearly had Washington jump, as he had forgotten that the dark-skinned woman in white with purple trim was still there. They had asked for her to meet them on the landing field earlier to make sure that Simmons’ hadn’t concussed when he fell. Many of the Reds and Blues were still a bit distrusting of Doc at the moment, an overprotective Grif included. The shock of seeing his father amongst the U.N.S.C. delegation had put Simmons out just as readily as seeing a snake would.

“You might want to stick around for a bit longer, just in case he faints again.” Grif told her with a surprising amount of surety.

Doctor Grey pursed her lips and fixed the Hawaiian with a rather meaningful stare, though she only nodded her head in response.

Caboose detached himself rather suddenly from Washington and Tucker’s sides to stand next to Grif now that the heavier-set man had paused long enough in his pacing, “Don’t worry, Grif!” He told him sincerely, “Simmons will be just fine!”

“Er, thanks, Caboose? I think.” Grif was rather taken aback by the gesture, shifting awkwardly on his feet.

“It’s just that you’re looking as sad and unhappy as Simmons was when you quit and we left.” Caboose informed him, “But it will be all right just like it was then later too!”

Grif let out a tired sigh at the reminder, “I know, but,” he paused briefly as what it was that Caboose just said finally registered in his brain, a sudden eager and rather hopeful look lighting up his brown and green eyes, “Really?”

Tucker cut off whatever response Caboose may have given with a loud groan from where he was still standing rather inexplicably close by Washington’s side, “Come on, dude, you just need to fucking get on with it at this point!”

“Shove it, Tucker.” Grif said, quick to raise his middle finger in response.

“Say, Santa,” Iota had turned his attention to the alien A.I. currently hovering in their midst, most likely as a diversionary tactic to change the subject since he had learned that trick from Washington just a short time after they had started traveling with this group of oddballs, “Is it really okay for you to be here with those U.N.S.C. guys right next door?”

Santa had opted to stay out of the proceedings in order to interact more with those outside with the excuse that he hadn’t had a chance to interact with the Reds and Blues recently, convinced that the spying Delta and Eta would relay any vital news later that Kimball and the other humans may not have been made aware of. Washington also suspected, based on Iota’s observations that he might be awkwardly attempting to be respectful of Eta since South had definitely insisted on going to the meeting. Her Fragment partner’s uncertainty when it came to Santa was well-known, even with Iota always trying to convince his timid sibling otherwise.

“Your concern is duly noted and appreciated, Iota.” Santa informed him with a slight tilt of his alien head, “I assure you that I will make myself scarce the instant I mu—”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence as the doors to Kimball’s presidential office began to move, and the red A.I. promptly vanished from sight.

“Ojalá pudiera hacer eso.” _{“I wish I could do that.”}_

Whatever lament Lopez made was lost as everyone desperately tried to stand as close to attention as they could in the crowded room, the effort obviously failing brilliantly given how South raised her platinum blond eyebrows at the sight of all of them awkwardly standing around the very moment her head poked through the now open doors.

“Okay, you assholes seriously need to knock if off because all of you are giving me the fucking creeps.” South readily declared as she stepped into the waiting room proper.

Eta, Washington noted, was nowhere to be seen. But Iota didn’t seem particularly on edge considering the circumstances, so the little golden guy was probably simply hiding away from human sight for the moment.

Behind South, Simmons slipped gratefully into the room too, his relieved body language at finally being able to escape from the no doubt stifling atmosphere that the meeting had taken place in very much visible to all. He hadn’t been able to come up with a good excuse to deflect his father’s insistence that he tagalong on account of how they had not seen each other in so long, regardless of how that had largely been the senior Simmons’ choice, even with Kimball having tried to assist in getting him out of it. Simmons had appeared quite uncomfortable before the doors had closed, not to mention still very much reeling in embarrassment over his earlier fainting spell.

No sooner had he a brief moment to relax than Grif bounded over to the lanky redhead at a surprisingly fast speed, startling him completely, “What the fuck happened? Did he say anything to you? Did he ignore you? Did you faint again?” The cubby man was unleashing a torrent of questions, “Were any of those other guys assholes too? Did they ask about us? About Theta? Or what we’ve been up to? Are they going to try sending you or the rest of us back or something?”

“Uh…” Simmons was taken aback by the sudden vocal onslaught thrown his way, blinking hurriedly as his brain tried to work overtime in figuring out just how to even begin responding to all of Grif’s questions.

The two’s faces both darkened with the telltale signs of blushes as realization dawned on them about just how into Simmons’ personal space bubble Grif had gotten.

“Um, you guys might want to start breathing again. Soon.” Theta tried helpfully to diffuse the situation for his two human partners as best he could, as well as hopefully keep them both alive in the process.

They quickly glanced away from the other, though whatever Simmons might have been about to say to Grif just then died on his lips the very second that his father and the other U.N.S.C. representatives came looming into view.

“We’ll have to set up a much more official meeting schedule and get proper protocol proceedings underway in the immediate future.” Simmons’ father was speaking curtly to Kimball as she and Carolina both followed the group out. The disapproval was positively dripping from his tongue as he turned his gaze rather unimpressively around the room before landing back on the recently elected President of Chorus.

To her credit, Kimball somehow managed to keep her expression unreadable and her body language decidedly neutral despite the openly hostile scrutiny being thrown her way, though Washington caught sight of her hand balling tightly into a fist at a side for a brief moment.

“Of course.” Kimball stated rather thickly into the air, “I’ll have my staff escort you to your quarters, but we will be in touch again.”

Simmons’ father kept his stony face completely impassive, “See that it is as soon as possible.” He told her in a way that made it quite clear that he was making more of a demand than a request before he and the others turned to the exit in intimidatingly unified group. The man didn’t even glimpse Simmons’ way as he walked past his offspring, though he paused just long enough to throw a curt “Simmons.” the younger man’s way as a distant sort-of goodbye, resulting in a noticeable flinch from his adult son as he left.

“S—sir!” Simmons barely got out shakily before the doors shut once more.

Santa reappeared in the uncomfortable silence that followed, “It appears as though the meeting was tense.” The A.I. observed.

“You have _no_ idea.” Carolina murmured under her breath, her stiff shoulders sagging in relief that things seemed to be over with for the moment.

“What a bunch of assholes.” Bitters spoke up angrily in wake of their departure.

“In this particular case, both observations might be something of an understatement.” Delta flickered to green life over Carolina’s shoulders with a rather uncharacteristic sigh of sorts, “Unfortunately.”

Another heavy silence fell over everyone at his assessment and Washington wondered what exactly all of this would ultimately mean for Chorus in the future.

South rolled her eyes in an overly dramatic fashion at the gloom and doom that was now permeating the air, “Fuck it.” She loudly declared a split-second later, clapping her gauntleted hands together for added emphasis, “If there was _ever_ a time to get good and plastered, I’d say it’s now. Who’s with me?”

*****

Kimball had, not at all too surprisingly opted out on the whole _“getting horribly drunk”_ endeavor since she had more political bullshit to deal with tomorrow first thing. Also opting out was Doctor Grey who, while always sure to cheerily bring up the effects of inebriation on the human body with quite a bit of graphic gusto, had wanted to make sure that she wasn’t needed again at the hospital. Carolina, Lopez, Dylan, and Sarge had joined them in opting out of getting drunk. Personally, South Dakota thought they were killjoys, but so long as she could still get plastered she didn’t care.

Not to anyone’s shock, bars had been one of the first businesses to get reestablished on Chorus following the official end of the war and the planet declaring its independence from the U.N.S.C. It made sense, in a way. Given everything they had been through, the people of Chorus wanted spots where they could either kick back and relax with their other surviving comrades and friends or drown their sorrows. Usually it was often a combination of the two.

Bars were the first type of privately owned _”restaurants”_ to be established because they weren’t really dealing with any potential competition from the still in-operation and free mess halls. Oddly enough, unlike other businesses affected by the current blockade, bars actually seemed to be _benefiting_ from it. The prices of beverages that had to go through stricter channels to get planet-side increased to cover shipping costs, meaning more of a profit should someone _really_ have a craving for one those brands. The blockade also quickly established farms and breweries to help supply the bars with cheaper, more readily available sources of booze, which were then sold at a discounted price in order to encourage more purchases, thereby generating increased profits for the bars along with their producers and suppliers.

It had become pretty commonplace, therefore, so see that pretty much every street in the capital had at least one such source of revenue on it. Bars were always popular. South and the lieutenants, much more knowledgeable about the rebuilding planet and its capital than their cohorts, clearly had their personal preferences over which ones were worth visiting.

There was even an amusing and overly loud whispered debate as they huddled amongst themselves to discuss this very subject, which South won with a mere crack of her knuckles for added emphasis on her oh-so-articulately made points, much to the orange-trimmed Bitters’ chagrin and the other three’s quiet resignations.

She was smirking the whole walk there, her entire demeanor improving the farther away from that damned, oppressive office that she got with each step. It also helped that Eta was no longer a twittering, fearful mess curled up in the back of her brain. His having left the vicinity and being closer to his more cheerful counterpart Iota deftly saw to that.

The Fragment being so reassured by his brother being around again and in good spirits thanks to Washington’s recovery was both pleasing in a way, yet it caused something inside of South to _ache_ ever so slightly. She resolutely did her damnedest to try and not dwell on or explore that more thoroughly because she knew it would just have her thinking on her goodie two-shoe sibling again and what was the point of doing _that_ to herself once more?

It wasn’t as if her thinking about him would somehow magically cause North to be any less dead. If it could, he would have been back even before his corpse had turned cold.

So _maybe_ those thoughts had her pick up her pace more _(fuck, she really needed that drink)_ and maybe that had left everyone else struggling to keep up with her purposeful strides _(fucking amateurs)_ , and maybe she had opened the door a bit more forcefully than needed because the control panel now had spiderwebbing cracks splintering out from the outline of her fist, but they were here to blow off some steam, right?

As everyone poured into the establishment after her, South took a few moments to adjust her eyes to the dim lighting before purposefully making her way over to the bar.

Andersmith had somehow gotten roped by Tucker into being his wingman for the night, the poor bastard just didn’t have it in his hear to say no even to something that ill-conceived, so the youngest lieutenants headed over to the bar too, though all three of them stopped in their tracks at the barrage of yellow blocking their way.

Kaikaina Grif grinned smugly with one arm draped across the shoulders of a clearly nervous Matthews, who had to bend his body at a rather awkward angle to even accommodate the shorter female’s action. A beer was hanging from her fingers over his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck no.” Was all Bitters could say in response to the sight, looking down at his teammate’s pleading expression rather pityingly.

Kai’s grin widened, “Oh, fuck _yes_.” The tan-skinned young woman corrected him, brown eyes gleaming, “You know, it only took me about twenty minutes to realize that this dweeb here,” she motioned down to the auburn-haired Matthews with a friendly bop of her head, “Was trying to distract me with busy work.”

The tan-with-yellow-trim-armored lieutenant looked up at his three teammates with a sheepishly apologetic look over his bespectacled features. South stood back for the moment, crossing her arms over her chest and watching the events unfold with mild amusement.

“So I told him that it would totally serve you guys right if we went out and had a party instead, only for the rest of you assholes to show up at the same bar before I could try out the good stuff!”

Palomo grinned nervously, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, “Well, that’s probably because this is seriously one of the only bars Matthews ever goes to.” He explained before leaning closer to the two in front of him and conspiratorially whispering, “It’s the one Bitters always takes him to whenever they go on those unofficial not-dates that they want us to keep pretending we don’t know about!”

“Charlie!” Jensen tried admonishing Palomo for the slipup, though the laughter in her eyes made that near-impossible.

Matthews’ face turned a brilliant shade of red and he glanced over at Bitters nervously as if to gauge his reaction as Bitters spoke up, “Palomo, shut the fuck up.” The dark-skinned young man with the horrendous dye job muttered, his own face darkening somewhat with a blush as he pointedly refused to look in anyone’s direction.

Matthews squirmed uncomfortably under Kai’s arm as the red in his cheeks finally toned down to a more modest pink, “S—sorry.” He told them all remorsefully, his pleading gaze landing lastly on Bitters once again.

The disgruntled lieutenant turned his head to meet his friend’s eyes, “Don’t fucking worry about it, Matthews.” Bitters told him calmly as he sent an appraising look Kai’s way, “We clearly underestimated her.”

“Fuck yeah, you did!” Kai exclaimed proudly.

Jensen looked over at Palomo then, the two sharing a smile, “She _is_ Captain Grif’s sister, after all.” She said.

“Yeah, he always found a way out of things!” Palomo agreed.

Matthews nodded his head in earnest agreement while Bitters huffed, apparently not sure if that was something actually praiseworthy.

Kai frowned slightly a split-second later, “Though I can’t believe all of you jerks would go to a party without us!”

South took that as her cue to step around the group to reach the bar behind them, “This isn’t so much a party as it is just an excuse to get completely shitfaced.” She informed the younger woman over her shoulder.

“Uh, the _best_ parties usually end up that way.” Kai informed her emphatically, “ _Especially_ if you wind up missing your underwear later.”

South considered that for a moment while Palomo nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, yeah,” Palomo stated until it caught up with him, “Wait, what?”

Jensen was tilting her head thoughtfully, “But why would your underwear go missing in the first place?” She questioned as Bitters slammed his hand against his forehead.

“No one knows. That’s the whole fucking point!” Kai sighed, “Clearly, I have been brought here for a reason.”

“To mentally scar us?” Bitters asked.

She unhooked her arm from across Matthews’ shoulders, the sniffling younger man immediately making a beeline straight to Bitters. The two wrapped their arms around one another out in public as a relieved, teary-eyed Matthews buried his face into Bitters’ chest, the other man just daring anyone to say anything about it with a dark-eyed look.

As the lieutenants dispersed, Kai sat down next to the former Freelancer in orchid and smirked over towards her, “You heard me, right?” The younger Grif asked.

South raised a newly acquired beer bottle to her lips as she regarded Grif’s little sister with growing amusement, “I did. I just didn’t know how the fuck to respond.”

Kai let out a happy hum as she rested her own beverage on the counter and drummed her fingertips along the edge, “Yeah, I bet you’ve been to a few parties like that.” She stated conversationally, glancing sideways at the platinum blonde with orchid tips still on the ends of South’s hair, “You seem like the type.”

“Really?” South asked, raising an eyebrow, “What kind of type, exactly?”

Kai emphasized her point with a roll of her dark eyes, “The type to have fun. Duh.”

Maybe that had been true, up until a point. But South’s definition of _“fun”_ was very different now. It involved a lot more ass-kicking, an insane amount of weaponry, and a shit-ton of explosives just for the hell of it. And a certain someone no longer being around to be a fucking killjoy seemed to put an aggravating damper on even _that_ now, if she really allowed herself to be honest.

South frowned and looked away, “You don’t know me at all then.” She replied as her pale blue eyes landed on Grif and Simmons huddled over in a corner, doing their awkward customary avoiding making out dance. She rolled her eyes at the sight before gesturing over at them, “Maybe you should bug your brother instead, so that those two dumbasses will have an actual excuse to avoid jumping one another’s bones?” She suggested.

Kai glanced at the pair before scoffing, “Please, I know better than to interrupt deep, philosophical marriage discussions at this point.” She told her before grinning over at the blonde once more, “’Sides, I’d rather hang out more with _you_ right now.”

South looked at her dubiously, knowing full well that she was far from a people person, “Why?” She asked curiously, almost scared of the answer.

Instead of responding directly, the young woman’s grin only grew as she took a swig of her beer, “So, just how many pieces of underwear _have_ you lost at parties?” Kai asked flirtatiously.

Despite herself, South chuckled before quickly hiding her slight smile behind the rim of her beer bottle.

*****

“So,” Dexter Grif said as he made his way back over to the table that he and Simmons had claimed for themselves earlier, putting down their drinks, “Your dad, huh?”

It was an awkward as all fuck start to a conversation. Truthfully, Grif really didn’t even want to be having this talk at all, but he figured they should at least try or some shit. Simmons was still rather on edge over everything, which Grif personally didn’t like seeing, and there hadn’t exactly been much of a chance to talk earlier.

Simmons was slumped forward in a rather deflated way in his seat, eyes glued to the table’s surface as he quietly nodded his head in response to Grif’s opening remark. He reached over for his drink tentatively, lifting his head to peer around the bar.

Most likely, judging by the worried frown on his face, the nerd was inwardly debating whether or not he should have just called it a night instead of coming out here. Lopez, Dylan, Sarge, and Grey had all excused themselves: Lopez to do who knew what on his own, Dylan to apparently get in touch with some of her journalistic contacts, Grey to head back to the hospital, and Sarge to walk her back, actually? It had been a surprisingly romantic gesture, and one that Grey had happily agreed to.

Kimball was already hard at work trying to make herself even more presidential or some shit, and Carolina had decided she would stick around just in case the temptation to fling her desk out the window became too much for the sand- and ice-armored woman to resist. Grif swore he had seen South hand over what looked like a bottle of some _really_ good booze to the cyan-wearing redhead before they had left though.

But, despite his own anxious and avoidant tendencies, Simmons had opted to stick around Grif and Theta for the moment, which Grif was secretly glad for even if it had led them to this uncomfortable conversation way earlier than he’d probably like.

At length, the cyborg nodded his head once more and nervously swallowed, “Y—yeah,” Simmons stated, accompanied by his trademark awkward-as-all-fuck laugh, “I definitely hadn’t seen that coming.” Grif said nothing in reply and Simmons sipped his drink before he tried elaborating further, “I mean, it’s not like my parents have been keeping me in the loop or anything like that.”

…Which was a nice way of saying they hadn’t bothered contacting him for fucking _years_. They hadn’t even done so much as send him a quick email even when Simmons had kept trying to send them messages before finally giving up entirely while stationed at Rat’s Nest. Not even a card or a shout-out even when they had all become Big Damn Heroes.

Grif had seen Simmons’ dejected demeanor in light of both of those continued rejections, had hated how it had turned his own stomach and how so many more words and gestures they had caused him to add to his personal, always growing _List of Things to Never Say or Do Around Simmons Because It Will Bring Awkward Feelings Shit Up_. Again, he chose to keep silent, letting Simmons get everything out he needed to.

“Seeing him again just like that. It was…” Simmons paused, frowning as he tried to come up with an all-encompassing word for how he might feel and ultimately failing to do so if his momentary grimace was any indication, “Awkward, to say the least.” He didn’t even try to suppress his accompanying shudder, “Standing in that meeting was fucking nerve-wracking too.”

Grif could imagine that, given the circumstances. From what had been revealed by those that had been there before everyone had left and gone their separate ways, it hadn’t exactly been too productive of a first meeting. The U.N.S.C.’s continued _“demands”_ in regards to Chorus were far too extreme for a still recovering world, much less one that had declared itself independent, a fact they seemed to want to thoroughly ignore.

Hearing all that about a world that you helped save and liberate, after seeing just what they had been through, coming from some majorly indifferent assholes who couldn’t care less about any of it, one of whom happened to be your own father? No wonder it had been stressful.

When it seemed like Simmons had lapsed into silence once more, Grif drank a good portion of his own drink and awkwardly tried thinking of some kind of reassurance that he could give his teammate, “The old man was probably just as stressed as you were.” He tried going for, though he honestly wasn’t sure how true a statement that really was.

Obviously, Simmons’ asshole of a dad had to have known that the odds of running into the son he had ignored were going to be high with this assignment. Did he take it on then _because_ of that, or in spite of it? Had he agreed to it willingly, _asked_ for it even? Or had he simply been ordered to come to Chorus? Had he _wanted_ to see Simmons again after so long, or had just resigned himself to it because that was what was expected of him as a parent?

Honestly, Grif didn’t have a fucking clue and he felt worse for Simmons because of it. He supposed at the very least, his mother had made it quite clear that she hadn’t cared about him and Kai pretty early on in their lives. It had made her absence later easier in a way, even if trying to cover it up for Kai’s sake had majorly sucked.

But Simmons? It seemed like he had live a lot of his life in uncertainly in regards to his family, and seeing his father once again was probably a stark, painful reminder. Grif resisted the sudden urge he felt to move closer to the redhead.

“Y—you think?” Simmons asked him, looking both hopeful and doubtful all at once.

Grif swallowed down on an ache in his chest and shrugged indifferently instead, “I’ll tell you what though. _I_ nearly fainted too when I thought you had cracked your goddamn head open.”

The admission was meant to be a joke, but it _may_ have revealed more than he usually cared to admit. Grif worried over how Simmons might respond, a slight heat rushing to his face. But, fortunately for him, Simmons was so caught up in remembering his fainting spell that he didn’t focus on what the heavyset man had said.

Simmons groaned in exasperation as he held his face in his hands, “ _Of course_ I had to go and embarrass myself in front of my fucking dad of all people!”

Grif _did_ reach out this time to pat the redhead consolingly on the back, letting the touch linger perhaps a bit longer than necessary as he was unable to stop himself from teasingly remarking, “Hey, at least it made the reunion a bit more entertaining for everyone.”

From in-between his splayed fingers, Simmons shot him a glare, “You’re a jackass.”

His comment only caused Grif’s smirk to widen, which in turn had Simmons sighing rather dramatically in true worrywart nerd fashion as he lowered his hands and rolled his eyes, seemingly lit up with a slight smile despite the exasperated gesture. For a few moments, neither spoke as they lapsed into their customary, wholly comfortable sense of _togetherness_.

Grif could have kicked himself for his mind incessantly demanding that he break it in order to ask a question he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer to, “Are you going to see him outside of all this Chorus business then or what?” He asked the cyborg.

He honestly wasn’t sure what response he wanted. Both way, Simmons could very likely get hurt or truly upset and he certainly didn’t want _that_ to happen.

Simmons frowned contemplatively, gripping his bottle again, “I don’t know.” He admitted shakily, furrowing his eyebrow, “Maybe?” When Grif remained silent, he cast an imploring look his way, “I—I mean, it would be weird if I didn’t, wouldn’t it?” Simmons asked.

Grif tried keeping his expression totally neutral as he shrugged his shoulders once more, “Beats me.” He said, “This isn’t exactly a situation I have any experience with.”

After all, his shitty home life had been different from Simmons’ shitty home life. It sucked that he _couldn’t_ just give him advice, but it wouldn’t be his place, right? He still hated the situation though.

“R—right.” Simmons looked away and bit his lip, a remorseful look crossing over his features at the thought that he had inadvertently reminded Grif about some of the more unpleasant aspects of his own past. When he turned back to regard Grif again, he opened his mouth as if to try and say something else…

“Hey, Simmons?” Doc’s voice called out just then, and both men looked up to see the medic and Donut waving the maroon-wearing cyborg over, “Do you have a minute? I could use a second opinion.”

“Yeah!” Donut chimed in eagerly, “He needs you to look in _real_ deep and see if you think my hole is infected too.”

Simmons groaned, “I _really_ hope they’re talking about that threading accident from before.” He muttered as he stood up.

“It’s one of life’s greatest mysteries, isn’t it?” Grif smirked at his joke, while Simmons rolled his eyes again and gave him the finger for good measure though there was a fond smile on his face and a surprising sort-of blush at the reminder of one of their earliest conversations together.

As Grif watched Simmons go, a frown formed over his previously smug expression even though he was glad that he hadn’t been asked to help Doc check any of Donut’s holes. Granted, Doc seemed to know that Grif hadn’t exactly forgiven him yet because looking really close at why Doc had done what he did meant he’d have to examine some of his own actions more than he’d like to and he’d have to forgive himself for those too and, yeah, he wasn’t ready to do that just yet.

Theta, who had been trying to give Grif and Simmons some privacy, appeared over his shoulder while also watching the lanky, freckled redhead with obvious concern in his body language, “Do you think Simmons is going to be okay?” He asked nervously, hoping for some kind of reassurance.

When Grif didn’t respond because he honestly didn’t know and he was more anxious than he’d care to admit, Theta’s worry only intensified.

*****

“Junior’s going to be visiting Chorus on vacation soon.”

Washington blinked in surprise at the sudden comment from Tucker, who had just come back from his failed flirting attempts which Andersmith had been quick to smooth over to help avoid any incidents, and, amusingly enough, seemed to be garnering quite a bit of positive attention from all of Tucker’s attempted hookups as a result. Tucker dropped into the seat next to the older male.

He didn’t even seem _that_ upset that his plans for the evening had so readily changed to hanging out with his team’s leader, even with his tan- and blue-wearing _“wingman”_ apparently having stolen away all of the attention. There was an excited gleam in Tucker’s eyes, his whole body alight with anticipation.

Washington tore his gaze away from Eta and Iota happily twirling one another in a circle overhead. They apparently, at Iota’s insistence, were trying to see just how many people they could indirectly cause to get motion sickness. Washington was waiting for the sounds of retching to occur before he told the twins to call it a night with their playful antics since they never really had much of an opportunity to hang out together like this without something dire occurring.

He smiled in Tucker’s direction, “That’s great, Tucker.” Washington finally said, realizing he had been staring longer than he meant to. He had never personally met Tucker’s alien son before, though he had waved hello to him in passing over vid-feeds quite frequently following their retirement on Iris.

“Yeah, he was supposed to visit us on the moon but,” Tucker frowned slightly and waved one of his hands in the air dismissively, “All of that shit ended up happening instead.”

“Yeah.” Washington’s fingers instinctively went for the scar on his throat, the action not at all lost on Tucker though he quickly tried turning his focus away from it.

“But it’s fucking great that he’ll get to come _here_ still though, isn’t it?” Tucker said, beaming again, “Dude, I can’t wait for you to meet him face-to-face!”

“Yeah,” Washington paused as Tucker’s words sunk in, and he looked over at the blissfully proud father who seemed to have no idea as to what he may have just casually admitted to in gray-eyed shock, “Er, come again?”

He _had_ to have heard that wrong. Tucker must have meant _everyone_ by it because why single _him_ of all people out to meet Junior?

Tucker scoffed at his reaction, “C’mon, Wash, like I _wouldn’t_ want to show off a totally kickass Freelancer with an A.I. who even survived getting shot in the fucking throat to my son?” He said, super excited.

Washington relaxed slightly, “Oh, right. Yes, of course.” He said.

He supposed all kids would be excited by that, no matter what species they were. He would have been at that age too.

Tucker raised an eyebrow at his reaction, “What did you _think_ I meant, Wash?” He asked inquisitively.

Washington’s freckled face felt rather warm for a reason that he couldn’t quite place, and he quickly averted his gaze back up to where Eta and Iota were still spinning around energetically in a gold and cyan circular blur of motion. Maybe he _should_ stop them now, before some poor drunk person happened to glance up and really started to feel like the world was spinning along with them.

However, he still felt Tucker’s questioning eyes lingering on him and he let out a small sigh, “Any ideas about what he might want to do while on vacation?” Washington asked instead of answering, hoping to change the subject.

“Tucker! Agent Washington!” Caboose exclaimed excitedly as the blue-armored man and Jax ran over rather hurriedly, causing both Blue Team members to startle somewhat.

“Caboose, I’ve told you before that lighting drinks on fire is just a really dumb way to lose your eyebrows.” Tucker stated in annoyance before either of the younger men could say anything else, “I don’t fucking care if Palomo said it was awesome or if Jax thinks it would make a good clip.”

The former Freelancer raised an eyebrow, “Talking from personal experience, I take it?” Washington asked before he could think better on it.

Tucker groaned in recollection and nodded, “From back when I first became captain. I figured sharing a few drinks when we found some booze once would be good teambuilding or some shit. And hey, they serve actual shots on fire, you know?”

“Oh no.” Washington had a sinking suspicion he knew where things were headed, and he tried his hardest to hide the smile threatening to curve his mouth upwards.

Tucker saw it anyways though, his features twisting with a grimace at the sight as he finished his story, “Palomo ended up tripping on his way over to the table.” He stated, hurriedly running his fingertips over his eyebrows and the top of his hair as if to confirm for himself that they were still very much there, “I couldn’t take off my fucking helmet for _weeks_!”

“We just thought you were being shy.” Caboose tried assuring Tucker.

Washington snorted, failing miserably to contain his laughter. Tucker shot him a glare as Washington waved his hands in way of apology.

“But if you would just consider how symbolic an image fire is, Tucker!” The cameraman in their midst tried pleading.

“No.” Came Tucker’s immediate response, as clearly this was a discussion they had had previously.

As Jax slumped his shoulders in response to this temporary creative defeat, Caboose shook his head emphatically, “Tucker, we did not come here to talk about missing eyebrows or your lack of thanks when someone drew them on for you!”

“With a _red_ Sharpie!” Tucker was quick to remind him.

“So that you would remember Red Sargent and the others.” Caboose told Tucker as if it made the most perfect sense in the world.

Tucker let out another groan of exasperation.

The white- and cobalt-wearing young man straightened himself upright at the reminder, “He’s right, actually. About why we came over, maybe. Not so much the other things.” Jax paused dramatically before starting to talk once more with quite a bit of excited flourish, “You will never guess who we just ran into!”

The dark-skinned man rolled his eyes, “If it’s one of those U.N.S.C. jerks, I couldn’t care less because they can kiss my—”

“Lavernius Tucker.” An all-together deep, rather menacing voice boomed from just behind Caboose and Jax as a towering figure in black armor with red trim and a distinctively horned helmet appeared. The man’s sudden appearance caused Tucker to freeze completely, his face taking on a distinctly ashen hue as he realized that Spencer Porkensenson, the process server, had spoken.

…Yes, Washington _had_ seen Jax’s film concept as the eager filmmaker had sent it to him to somehow speed up his recovery. It was the thought that counted, even if the reasoning as to why that would help had been rather lost on him. Washington was definitely never going to admit out loud that he thought the concept was rather interesting.

“I am here to serve you.” Spencer informed Tucker gravely, tilting his head slightly as he added, “There is also a matter of the utmost importance regarding one of your numerous paternity cases that I feel you must be made informed of right away.”

Silence lingered in the aftermath of that particular declaration, and even the two A.I. Fragments overhead paused in their shenanigans to listen to whatever would end up happening next.

Washington pondered over the process server’s words, looking between both Tucker and Spencer as he did so. There seemed to be quite a bit of information that he was lacking about what was going on currently. He coughed awkwardly a second later when he felt he could use his voice again, “His…his _what_ now?”

Next to him, Tucker merely bowed his head in defeat, “Fuck me.”

“Huh.” Jax mused out loud rather thoughtfully, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Tucker, but isn’t that sort of what got you in this mess in the first place?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore Jax and I sort of want to try working him into every single chapter ending I possibly can from here on out just to have them close on his commentary! XD
> 
> Yay, I managed to get my obligatory bar scene in a multi-chapter fic into this one early on! XD It is a tradition, apparently. :)
> 
> I ended up getting some not at all good news this week and have been having a very rough time of it as a result, so I apologize for any oddness in this update. I’m trying to power through, so I hope it doesn’t affect my writing too much. Still though, some of the convos were a blast to write and helped improve my mood a bit, which was an added bonus!
> 
> Beyond some very vague ideas for this story, it occurs to me that I don’t have a lot of set plot points planned out for this particular fic. Hopefully I will be able to wring some out as I brainstorm future chapter outlines because I have become oddly attached to this little Canon Divergent AU story the more I go along with it. It is definitely fun to explore! :)
> 
> I hope that everyone has been having a great week, and thank you for reading! :D


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